


I'll Never Not Know You

by Quickspinner



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Music Store, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Lukanette, Meet-Cute, One Shot Collection, SO MUCH FLUFF, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22349626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quickspinner/pseuds/Quickspinner
Summary: A series of fun and fluffy Lukanette first meetings in all different circumstances. Soulmates, rainy days, ornery crocodiles...no matter how it starts, it always ends the same way.Each chapter is self-contained and complete unless otherwise indicated.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 163
Kudos: 558





	1. Out of a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> During the MLHolidays2k19 I did several first meetings, and I really enjoyed them, and now the meet-cute has become something I do for fun when I need to clear my brain. So most of these will be fun and fast, but every once in a while something gets away from me, so who knows what will happen. Most of these will be light and fluffy, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I do. 
> 
> If you want to leave a request in the comments or in my tumblr ask box (same username) feel free; I can't promise I'll do all of them, but I'll keep them kicking around in the back of my mind and we'll see what happens. Just, no smut, and light on the salt please.

_I asked for a few prompts on tumblr one day and this one was for a colorblind soulmates AU where they meet at a show. I'm not super knowledgeable about soulmate AUs, but I do enjoy them so I did my best. I went with the bond being triggered by eye contact for this one._

* * *

Some part of his brain can’t help but note that this really couldn’t have happened at a worse time. It’s the biggest show they’ve ever played, a huge opportunity for the band, and he’s going to blow it for them all if he can’t get his shit together. 

But he can’t, no matter how hard he tries. The riot of color suddenly visible to him is almost enough to make him nauseous, and coupled with the heat of the stage lights and the frantic need to get to  _ her _ , he’s starting to have trouble breathing. It’s like a normal stage rush times a thousand and his blood is pounding in his ears.

It’s a miracle they locked eyes at all. The stage lights keep him from seeing much of the crowd, but somehow he looked up just as the spotlights traveling the crowd passed over her, and then—

Then he couldn’t see anything else as color suddenly flooded his world. Juleka’s grip on his arm steadies him—not much, but enough to keep him from passing out on stage. “Are you okay?” she asks urgently, and Luka shakes his head, still not taking his eyes off  _ her _ . She’s close to the front, close enough that he can still see her dimly even though the spotlight’s passed, but too far for him to get to if he jumps off the stage. 

He seriously considers it anyway. 

“Tell Rose to call a break,” he tells her. They aren’t quite halfway through their set, but it’s close enough.

Juleka doesn’t ask questions, just relays the request. 

Luka tears his eyes from  _ hers _ long enough to look towards the backstage door, and then looks back to her again. He sees her nod, hears Rose call the break, and then he shoves his guitar in Juleka’s hands and runs.

* * *

Marinette sees him leave the stage. “I have to go,” she says, still dazed from the impact of meeting his eyes.

“Go?” Alya echoes, confused. “The show’s not even half over. Marinette, are you sick?” She grabs Marinette’s arms. “You don’t look so good.”

Marinette twists herself free, mind whirling. “I’ve got to find the door.”

“Door, what door?” 

“I have to get to him,” Marinette insisted, beginning to go from stunned to on a mission. It occurs to her that there’s only one person she needs to convince, someone who knows this venue and can get her where she needs to be. She whirls and grabs him. “I need to get backstage,” she says, and points. “Over there.”

The DJ stares at her, and exchanges an incredulous look with Alya. Impatiently, Marinette shakes his arm where she’s holding onto him. 

“Nino,” she says desperately, “Your socks don’t match.” 

Nino looks down at his feet, where two identical socks peak out between his shoes and pants—except one is orange and one is red. The only colors Marinette has ever seen are green and yellow.

His eyes snap back up to hers, and he grabs her hand. “I got you,” he says, and begins pulling her through the crowd, a still-confused Alya trailing behind.

* * *

Luka doesn’t make it past the stage door. Ivan grabs him as he reaches for the handle.

“Luka, if you go out there, you’ll get eaten alive,” Ivan points out. 

“I have to find her,” Luka says urgently, pulling against his hold, but Ivan pulls him back easily and places himself between Luka and the door. 

“Find who?” Ivan demands, but he must recognize something in Luka’s wild eyes, because then he says, “Oh.” He shakes his head, though his face is sympathetic. “If you go out there the fans will mob you, and even if by some miracle they don’t, you’ll never find her in that crowd.”

“Watch me,” Luka says vehemently, beginning to regret not just jumping off the stage as he futilely tries to push his way past the big man. He only stops struggling when Juleka catches him around the waist.

“Calm down,” she orders with quiet authority. “There’s gotta be a smarter way to do this, we just have to think.”

A laugh bubbles up in his chest. He hasn’t been able to think coherently since he saw her. “Her eyes are the same color as Rose’s,” he says nonsensically. 

“Blue,” Juleka says, and he can hear the smile in her voice. “Yours are too, actually, just a little bit darker.” 

The door behind Ivan opens and all of them freeze.

“—trust you on this, Nino, but it’s asking a lot,” the bouncer was saying as he let two people through.

“I promise, dude—“ 

Then Ivan moved out of the way and Luka didn’t hear anything else, because she was there, her face stark white and her hair black and her eyes blue and the rest of her a rainbow of colors he couldn’t match names to yet. He knows purple because of Juleka but he’s never gained a color from anyone else. 

And now he sees them all.

“Hi,” he says breathlessly, and feels Juleka let him go.

“Hi,” she replies, with a smile that trembles. “Luka, right? I’m Marinette.”

He laughs breathlessly and opens his arms. She runs into them and they both fall to their knees. She’s small. Luka curls around her and sighs. They rest there for one quiet moment before Juleka clears her throat. 

Luka sighs, face buried in Marinette’s hair. “I have to go back on and play what’s either going to be either the best or worst set of my life,” he tells her. “Will you stay?”

“Always,” she murmurs back, and Luka smiles. He pulls back and takes her hands.

“Wait for me,” he says, “I’ll be back.” He looks up at the bouncer. “Take them somewhere in the wings where they can see?”

“Sure,” the bouncer agrees. 

“Okay,” Luka says, but he meets Marinette’s eyes again and he suddenly doesn’t want to let go. “Okay,” he repeats, and feels Juleka’s hand on his shoulder. 

Marinette squeezes his hands. “Go,” she whispers, and then clears her throat so she can say it stronger. “Go on.” Her smile still trembles, but it’s real. “I came to hear you, after all,” she says, and suddenly there’s no more question about whether it’s going to be the best or the worst set of his life. 

Luka lets go of one hand to cup her cheek. “Okay,” he says a third time, and this time he actually manages to let go of her and back away. “I’ll play for you,” he promises. “Wait for me.”


	2. I Just Want to Make You Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different from the intensity of the last one. Someone asked for Luka comforting Marinette or vice versa, and I thought, it's Luka's turn to get cheered up. Just a little light fluff and teasing.

Luka wasn’t having any luck finding inspiration at home, so he packed up his guitar and started walking. It was a nice day, despite his gloomy mood, and he soon found himself on a park bench, guitar case leaned up beside him but still unopened. 

He’d been to auditions before, he’d been turned down before. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. He’d had a sinking feeling since he’d gotten to the audition and had more of an opportunity to talk to the client. He’d done his best, of course, but the result was exactly what he expected -  _ not the sound we’re looking for _ . 

It all just felt like a waste of time. If they’d been more clear about what they were looking for, he would have prepared differently, or passed on the audition altogether. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but for some reason this one was eating at him. And now here he was sitting in a random park glaring at a dandelion in the sidewalk as if it had personally wronged him.

“Um, excuse me?” 

Startled, Luka glanced up at him and found a girl standing over him, in a black and pink uniform with an apron tied around her waist. The hairpiece planted in front of her bun had a logo on it that looked familiar. His eyes darted to the table set up across the way, stacked with treats, confirming that the same logo was printed on the cloth draped over their table. Luka looked up at the girl again and realized she had begun to fidget uncomfortably.

“Hi,” he answered belatedly, finally snapping out of his funk enough to reply. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” the girl said, shoulders hunching a little, and Luka immediately felt guilty. “You just...well, you looked like maybe you could use this.” She sat down on the bench next to him and held out a little cellophane package, decorated with lace and a bow, with two macarons inside.

Luka blinked in surprise, and then smiled ruefully at her. “Wow, I look so depressed I get pity macarons?” he chuckled, reaching out to take the pretty package. 

The girl’s face flooded with color. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply anything like that, I’m so sorry, you just looked kind of down and I thought—“

“Relax, I’m just teasing,” Luka smiled, touching her arm. “Thank you, really. That’s very sweet. Definitely perks my day up a little.” She relaxed and smiled brightly.

She was pretty, Luka realized as he found his own smile growing as he looked back at her. She had big blue eyes and a light scattering of freckles across her nose, lightly glossed pink lips, and a sweet face that went perfectly with her frilly uniform. “Well,” she said shyly, tucking a lock of hair back. “Whatever’s got you down, I hope you find a solution.”

“It’s not that serious,” Luka admitted with a wry smile. He offered her a macaron and she declined with a smile. “Just a bit of a disappointment. I’ll get over it,” Luka sighed, taking a bite of the macaron. His eyes widened slightly. “Although,” he added once he’d chewed and swallowed, “Now that I know pouting in the park gets me delicious cookies hand-delivered by a pretty girl, I might be tempted to do it more often.”

She turned red, and sputtered for a moment, which actually made him laugh. “Well, if you were out to cheer me up, consider it mission accomplished,” Luka chuckled. “Thanks.”

His benefactor gave him a brilliant smile that took his breath, before her head turned quickly in response to a call from across the way.

“Marinette! Girl, what are you doing, we need you over here!”

“Oh, I have to go,” she said, standing quickly. She flashed him one more smile and a quick wave. “I’m glad I could make you smile a little.” 

“I don’t think anybody could help smiling at you,” Luka chuckled, taking another bite of the cookie. “Wow, that’s good,” he said, momentarily distracted. 

“You like it?” Marinette looked pleased, if a little pink from the compliment.

“It’s fantastic,” Luka gave her a real smile, the weight he’d been feeling all morning finally lifting. “Thank you.”

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly and the pink in her cheeks brightened, but before either of them could say anything else, there was another call for her from the table. She stammered out another goodbye and was gone before Luka could say anything else, running back to her table. Luka winced as she tripped over an uneven place in the sidewalk and her arms flailed, and breathed a sigh of relief when she caught herself and made it back to the table undamaged.

Luka looked at the cellophane wrapper with the bakery logo and address at the bottom. “Marinette, huh?” he said to himself, smiling. Those macarons had been awfully good. He should pick some up for his mother sometime. He folded the wrapper carefully and put it in his pocket. 

Luka looked back towards the bakery table, where he could see Marinette and a couple of other girls serving customers. She had a nice smile, Luka thought, reaching almost absently for his guitar. As he took it out and slipped the strap over his head, he glanced towards the table one more time. Then he smiled as he set his fingers to the strings. Maybe he could draw a little more attention to this little corner of the park. And if he watched out of the corner of his eye to see if Marinette turned when his first strum floated into the air, it was just for the sake of seeing her smile one more time.


	3. My Heart Like a Firework

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was actually two prompts, one for Luka going through a puddle and soaking Marinette, and the other for Marinette getting caught in a sudden rainstorm and ducking into a music shop where Luka is working, and I ended up kind of sticking them together. This one got away from me and it's kind of huge, so. You might want to take a quick bathroom break and get a beverage before you settle down to read.

Luka glanced up at the sky as he pedaled to work. He wasn’t sure what had possessed his mom to buy the music shop, but he actually kind of liked working in it. Unfortunately the metro stop nearest the boat was shut down today, and the weather was not looking so great for biking. It had been raining off and on for three days, and from the looks of the sky it wasn’t done yet. He was just hoping to get to work before the sky opened up again.

Luka was so focused on getting there quickly that he forgot something very important. As he turned the corner onto the street where their shop was located, he plunged right into a huge puddle of water that had accumulated at the blocked storm drain there. For a moment, there was chaos, and not the kind he enjoyed. The bike sent a huge wave up, someone shrieked, and the wheels skidded and went haywire. Luka somehow managed to pull off some weird maneuver between stopping the bike and jumping off of it, and ended up on his feet in the middle of the tiny lake.

“Great,” he muttered, looking down at his pants, which were now wet to the knee.

“You can say that again,” sighed a second voice, and Luka looked down. There was a dark-haired young lady sitting in the puddle-lake, and while  _ he  _ was wet from the knees down,  _ she  _ was thoroughly soaked. It took only a moment to realize that the shriek he’d heard when he hit the puddle must have been her. He wasn’t sure how she’d ended up  _ in  _ it, but things happened when one got unexpectedly hit with a wave of ice cold dirty water. 

“Oh, my—I am so sorry.” Luka cringed as he reached down to offer his hands to the young woman. “I should have expected that damn  _ lake _ to be there after last night, but my mind was elsewhere, and—honestly, I’m so sorry, miss. Are you hurt?”

“It’s okay, it was an accident,” she sighed. “And no, just the usual bumps and bruises.” She took his hands and he pulled her to her feet, and she gasped as her flats filled with cold water. 

“Damn,” he muttered, “Hold on.” He quickly bent, slipping an arm under her knees and lifting her up out of the puddle. She gasped again as she fell against his chest as he lifted her. “Sorry, let me just get you out of this,” he said, carrying her to the edge of the puddle and setting her on the sidewalk. “Here, hold onto me,” he said as he knelt down. “Lift up your foot.” She did, leaning on his shoulders as he slipped her shoe off and emptied it of muck. Not much of an improvement but it was better than being waterlogged. Luka helped her put it back on and did the same for the other shoe.

“I’ll get your things,” he said, getting to his feet and looking back to the bag laying half submerged. “I hope there wasn’t anything important in there—“

“It’s waterproof,” she said absently, trying to squeeze some of the water out of her skirt. “I’m kind of a magnet for this kind of thing honestly, so I’ve learned to be careful.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m glad you’re taking precautions,” Luka said, stepping carefully out into the puddle. “I’d feel awful if I ruined all your things.” At least his boots kept out the water, as long as he didn’t slosh too much. He waded carefully over to her bag and his bike. Fortunately he hadn’t been carrying anything important in the basket. “I wish the city would fix that stupid drain,” he muttered as he tried to get back out without losing anything. “I really am so sorry Miss, I hope I’m not making you late for...anything...“ He stopped short as he finally really looked at her. 

_ Oh hell _ , he thought numbly as she looked back at him. Her makeup was running, but the black marks didn’t do anything to diminish the sweet prettiness of her face or the clear blue of her stunning eyes. 

“Marinette,” she said, smiling even though she was cold and wet and dirty, and that smile would have been enough to make his knees weak by itself. “Just Marinette. I was just on my way home, so it’s fine. Like I said, stuff like this happens to me all the time. You’ve been a lot nicer about it than most people, actually, um...sir.”

“Luka,” he told her on autopilot, feeling a stupid smile spread over his face. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Marinette, even if—“

The sky chose that moment to open up and unleash a downpour on their heads. 

Luka swore. He grabbed Marinette’s wrist in one hand and his bike in the other. “This way.” It was an awkward run into the back alley behind the shop. Luka leaned his bike against the wall and fumbled out his keys, unlocking the back door and holding it wide for Marinette to run in ahead of him. He darted in after her.

Unfortunately for both of them, the lights were off and someone had left a large crate a few feet inside the door. Marinette hit it first with a yelp, but Luka was too close behind her to stop, so Marinette fell over it and Luka promptly fell over her. 

“ _ Shit _ ,” he hissed, scrambling for a secure place to put his hands so he could push himself up off the poor girl he was probably crushing. “This day just gets better and better.” 

“Tell me about it,” Marinette grumbled under him. 

“Hang on, just let me—” Luka managed to lever himself off her and find his footing. “There. Sorry. Again. Don’t go anywhere, let me get the lights first.” Luka stumbled around for a moment, swearing under his breath. “Mom, you and I are going to have words about leaving shit in front of doorways,” he muttered as he finally found the light switch. “‘From chaos comes creation’” he complained in a falsetto. “More like a busted—“ he turned to find Marinette staring at him from where she knelt on the floor. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

She giggled, covering her mouth. “It’s okay.” Luka stepped around the clutter to offer her a hand up for the second time today.

“You’re freezing,” he frowned, noticing her shiver. 

“Oh, I’m—well, yeah,” she admitted, folding her arms around herself. 

“Let’s get you something dry to put on,” Luka said, leading her toward the front of the shop. 

There was a small display of t-shirts tucked in one corner of the store. 

“I don’t think I have anything small enough for you,” he said, thumbing through the shirts on the rack. “Our women’s order got put on back order, but hopefully you can find something that’ll work.” He selected a shirt in his own size and then turned and gestured her towards the rack. “Hope you like Jagged Stone. Help yourself.”

Marinette burst out laughing when she saw the shirt he was holding, and Luka raised his eyebrows. “Sorry,” she giggled. “It’s just, I um…” she blushed and Luka’s eyebrows went higher. “I work for Jagged Stone sometimes,” she said shyly, gesturing at the shirt. “I actually designed this.” She pointed to a small set of initials set in an inconspicuous part of the design. “That’s me.”

“That...is seriously cool,” Luka said wonderingly, and Marinette blushed further. She took a tentative step around Luka and he moved quickly out of her way. 

Luka gratefully peeled off his wet shirt. There was no help for his wet pants, but since they were mostly only wet from the knees down and his feet were mostly dry, he’d survive. He made a mental note to start keeping a change of clothes here just in case. There was a squeak behind him as he put his arms in the dry shirt. Startled, he looked back, but all he saw was Marinette’s rigid back as she gripped the shirt rack. 

“Everything okay?” he asked as he finished putting the dry shirt on. 

“Fine!” Marinette said quickly, grabbing a shirt off the rack. “Um, is there somewhere I can—“

“Oh, yeah, sorry, the bathroom’s right through there,” Luka pointed. “Don’t worry, I promise it’s clean.” 

“Thanks,” Marinette smiled.

“Don’t mention it,” Luka said, picking up the wet shirt from where he’d dropped it on the floor. “It’s the least I could do.” As Marinette went to the public bathroom, he took his wet shirt to the employee bathroom in the back, hanging it over the sink to dry. 

A thought occurred to him and he opened the cabinet over the sink, poking through the bottles of Juleka’s crap stacked in there.

Luka went back out to the front and knocked on the bathroom door. “Marinette?”

He heard her squeak, and then say, “Um, yes?” 

“I’m leaving some makeup remover and tissues outside the door if you want to use it. My sister practically keeps a whole cosmetic counter in the back. Do you need anything else?”

“Oh! Okay. Um, thanks, I can’t think of anything else. Oh, maybe a bag for my clothes if you have one?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Luka smiled. “I’ll hang it on the doorknob. He fetched one of the larger bags they had for merchandise and hung it on the bathroom door. Then he got a mop and cleaned the floor where they had tracked muddy water, and went about the process of opening the shop. It was a little bit late but he doubted his mother would care considering the circumstances. If she even noticed.

He glanced back automatically when he heard the bathroom door open and did a double-take, grateful that she had turned around to shut the door so she didn’t see the way his jaw dropped. 

She’d picked one of the larger sizes and belted the t-shirt around her waist to wear it like a dress so she could shed her wet skirt and stockings. It was a little short but not scandalous; girls regularly came in the shop wearing micro-minis that made the t-shirt dress look absolutely modest by comparison. Still, she had really nice legs for such a petite woman, and the collar was much too wide for her, exposing more of her neck and shoulders than the blouse she’d been wearing. She’d taken her hair out of the tails it had been in, and it hung in wet tendrils around her shoulders.

He was still staring when she turned around, though he’d managed to close his mouth at least. 

“Is it too short?” Marinette asked, tugging at the hem self-consciously, and Luka coughed. 

“No, it looks good,” he said. “Just be careful how you bend over and you’ll be fine.” God, why was he thinking about that. “You’re welcome to hang out here until the storm stops. Oh, I can put those on the heat register to dry off if you want,” he added, gesturing at the shoes dangling from her fingers. Her legs and feet were bare.

“Please,” she smiled, handing them over. Luka took them behind the counter and did as he promised. 

“Make yourself at home,” he told Marinette. “Looks like it’ll be a slow day anyway.” He nodded toward the front windows, which were being pelted by sheets of rain every time the wind gusted. “Can’t imagine many people coming out in  _ that _ . Well,” he amended, “I would, if I needed new strings badly enough, but still.”

Marinette was taking things out of her bag, laying them on the counter. She paused to examine a notebook, and breathed a sigh of relief when she found it was undamaged. She took out a set of colored pencils and some other supplies, and then her phone. “What do you do when there’s no one in the shop?” 

“Lots of things,” Luka shrugged. “Inventory, restocking. I’ll probably open that crate we tripped over and get whatever’s in it out on the shelves so that we can get rid of it.” He rolled his eyes. “Mom’ll never move it if I don’t do something about it.” 

Marinette giggled. “Your mom’s the manager?” 

“She’s the owner, actually, but yeah, when she’s here, she’s technically the manager,” Luka said, opening the counter and going behind it. “So, yeah, make yourself at home, relax. Try an instrument if you want,” he grinned, gesturing towards the demo guitars. 

“Oh, no, I’d be a disaster,” she giggled, “But thanks. I’m good, I’ll just—uh…” she glanced around, and then turned around and hopped up to sit on the counter, crossing her legs and balancing her notebook across them. “This is fine, if it’s okay.”

“Sure,” Luka agreed, eyes flicking to her legs again in spite of himself. He turned away quickly. “I’ll be back in a minute.” 

When he came back Marinette was writing, or, no—maybe drawing in her notebook. He watched her for a moment, but she looked totally focused, so Luka didn’t say anything, just went on to work, and quickly fell into the routine and his own thoughts. 

Luka hummed along to the tune playing in his head as he stacked the boxes on the shelf. “And those eyes can hypnotize,” he sang, “Was designed to blow my mind—“ 

He stopped at the giggle behind him, and turned to grin at Marinette. “Sorry,” he said, “Habit. I forgot you were here.”

“I don’t mind,” Marinette giggled. “Your voice is nice.” She glanced around at the shop, eyes lingering on the guitars hanging on the display wall. “Do you play?” 

Luka grinned slowly. “I do. You want to hear?” 

“Oh,” she said, shoulders curling in. “That’s okay, you’re busy, you’re working.” 

Luka chuckled. “I’ll be right back.” 

He went in the back to get the guitar he kept here, slinging it on. He winked at Marinette as he went by her to the amp they had put for the demo instruments. He plugged in and began to tune up. “What kind of music do you like?” he asked as he worked. 

“Me?” She sounded surprised and he glanced up to see Marinette tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Oh, I...well, I’m not really cool or anything, I just like whatever...it’s probably stupid, I’m sure everything I like is really mainstream…”

“What’s wrong with that?” Luka smiled at her. He checked the length of his amp cord and then went to lean on the counter next to her. “People like different things,” he continued, as she continued to look uncertain. “And mainstream stuff wouldn’t be mainstream if it didn’t speak to people in some way. I mean, a song doesn’t have to be edgy and full of symbolism and dissecting societal wrongs to be entertaining. Music can do all that, sure, but that doesn’t mean the songs that are just catchy or fun are somehow less worthy. I like a little bit of everything myself. Almost every genre has something to offer, if you’re open-minded enough to look for it. And if you’re not, that’s okay, too. You like what you like, Marinette. Don’t be ashamed of it. Certainly not for my sake.” He continued tuning, watching her out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh,” Marinette said, and he thought he saw a hint of color on her cheeks. “Well, I like Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale…” 

“Jagged’s my favorite singer,” Luka said, strumming experimentally. “There we go.” He looked up. “So how’d you end up working for him, anyway? You’re a graphic designer?”

“I’m a freelance fashion designer, actually,” Marinette admitted, setting her notebook aside and gripping the edge of the counter. “I met him sort of by accident, while he was staying at my classmate’s hotel and—well, it’s a long story, but I ended up designing the sunglasses he wears whenever he’s in Paris. I’m sure you know the ones.” She rolled her eyes. “They’re so ostentatious.”

“They are,” Luka chuckled. “But they work for him.” 

"Well, he loved them, and then when he was ready to drop his next album, he asked me to design it, and I’ve been doing work off and on for him ever since.” 

“That is seriously awesome,” Luka shook his head. “You’re an amazing person, Marinette.”

“I was just lucky,” Marinette said.

Luka smiled down at the guitar, setting his fingers to the frets, taking a centering breath. “Luck only makes opportunities,” he said as he began to play. “It takes something else to capitalize on those opportunities.” He grinned up at her. “I still think you’re pretty cool. And, well. Pretty and cool.” He continued to riff, letting his head bob along with the music, letting the rhythm of the rain on the windows inspire him. He felt Marinette begin to sway beside him. He worked in her bright smile, and the sharp staccato of his own heart. 

“Wow,” she said, when he let it end. “That was amazing.” 

Luka felt a bit of heat in his cheeks. “It’s my passion,” he shrugged. “I’ve been playing my whole life. Since I was in diapers, practically.” He switched his tune to a familiar song, one he thought Marinette might recognize. 

She must have, because she started singing along, but it came out a little squeaky. “Ugh, sorry, that was terrible, I don’t know why I—”

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed, it was just the wrong key for you. Try this.” He began playing again, the same melody, but in a different key. He nodded at Marinette encouragingly and she sang, a little shyly. 

“If today’s the day I die, lay me down under the lights, let me fall in love, let me save a life, and let me lose my voice, singing all my favorite songs…” she trailed off, blushing but smiling, and Luka picked it up, singing the words until she was brave enough to join in again. 

“No one, no one lives forever, we will be remembered for what we do right now,” they sang together, and Luka turned to face her. She seemed to grow braver, and they sang the chorus together. Luka winked at her when they sang, “Let me kiss a stranger,” but that seemed to be too much for her, as she promptly forgot the words and spluttered, red-faced. Luka could hardly sing for laughing and their little concert stalled for a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” Luka chuckled. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

Marinette sniffed haughtily and looked away, running her fingers through her hair. Luka followed the motion with his eyes, but backed off a little. He strummed and sang, “Cause we’re all just kids who grew up way too fast,” and though she still wouldn’t look at him, she joined in, “Yeah the good die young but the great will always last,” and by the end of the song she was smiling again.

“That was fun, Marinette,” he said, leaning on the counter next to her and looking up into her face. “Thank you.” 

“I should be thanking you,” Marinette said, and she reached out to move a stray strand of hair off his forehead. Luka’s heartbeat sped up, but Marinette snatched her hand back. “Oh, sorry, I don’t know what I was—um…”

“I didn’t mind,” Luka said, unconsciously leaning a little closer.

Marinette fidgeted uncomfortably, and Luka snapped out of it like he’d been doused with cold water (again), straightening up. He cleared his throat and put his back to the counter again, and went back to improvising, though he couldn’t stop smiling. He glanced at the rain and couldn’t decide if he hoped it passed soon or not. Marinette might be killing him by inches but if he was honest, he was loving every minute of it.

* * *

Marinette was picking her sketchbook back up when Luka yelped. She jumped, dropping her book, and turned wide eyes on him and he grinned back, clearly embarrassed. “Sorry. Popped a string,” he said. “Surprised me.”

Marinette giggled. “I didn’t know that could happen.” 

“It can happen if your strings are worn out. Or if there’s something sharp on the guitar where the string’s rubbing, but mine are just old.” Luka shrugged. “I’m a bit later than usual replacing mine because I’ve been busy, so it’s not really a surprise.” He carried the guitar over to the counter, and then went to one of the displays. Thumbing through the packets hanging there, he selected one. “I guess I might as well heed the warning and replace all of them.” 

Marinette slid down from her perch to come over and lean on the counter near him, watching with interest as Luka took the old strings off. He moved with confidence and efficiency, and she found herself watching his hands. He laid the old strings aside on the counter as they came free. “May I?” she asked, touching one of the old strings. 

“Be my guest.” Luka smiled absently as he began putting the new strings on. Marinette watched him for a moment, feeling more able to look at him now that his rather intense gaze was focused elsewhere. The shaggy blue-tipped hairstyle suited him, kept him from being too sharp with his strong nose and cheekbones and pointed chin. The wide bracelets he wore accentuated the muscles of his forearms. She glanced at his shoulders for only a second before looking away with a blush. She’d gotten more than an eyeful of his bare back earlier, after all. His build might tend towards long and lean rather than broad and bulky but he was plenty athletic. 

Luka didn’t look up from what he was doing, but Marinette caught the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and was suddenly mortifyingly certain he knew she was checking him out. Blushing, she turned her attention to the discarded guitar strings. Well, she reflected with a little smile of her own, after the way he’d looked at her when she’d finished changing, maybe she didn’t have to be too embarrassed. 

Marinette picked up the strings, examining the different thicknesses. An idea began to brew in the back of her mind as she twisted a couple of the strings together thoughtfully. Marinette grabbed her sketchbook and opened it, laying the strings across it as she began to sketch different woven patterns, using different colored pencils to represent the different strands..

“Could you do an infinity knot?”

Marinette gasped and jumped so high that she nearly lost her balance. Luka reached across the counter and grabbed her upper arms to steady her.

“Woah! Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were quite that in the zone.”

“Oh,” Marinette sighed, putting a hand over her fluttering heart. “I’m sorry, I was—”

“Obviously,” Luka chuckled. “And I’m the one who’s sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted you. I just saw what you were doing and I got really interested, and—well, my mom’s Scottish, and what you were doing makes me think of some of the Celtic jewelry she wears.”

“Of course,” Marinette said, tapping her pencil thoughtfully. She turned the page and picked up her phone. “Let me find some references.”

Luka pulled out his own phone and found some pictures of his mother. 

“She looks like a fun lady,” Marinette giggled as he zoomed in on one of her bracelets.

“She’s a character,” Luka grinned. “I think you’d like her. She’d definitely like you,” he added absently, laying the phone on the counter and turning it so Marinette could see. 

Unexpectedly flustered by that comment, Marinette put her own phone next to his with the examples of knotwork she’d found. For a moment they were silent as Marinette sketched. She glanced up at Luka once, and he immediately straightened. “Sorry, am I bothering you? I can find something else to do if you’d rather I didn’t watch.”

“It’s fine,” Marinette said, smiling at his thoughtfulness, “But you’re blocking the light.”

“Oh, sorry,” Luka hopped over the counter and leaned beside her instead. “Is this okay?” 

Marinette made an affirmative noise, already deep in thought about the length of the strings and how to use the varying thicknesses and materials. Eventually, she sat back.

“Wow, that looks great,” Luka said, lightly touching one of the sketches. “My sister would love this one, with the kind of lacey look.” 

“It’s just a sketch, though,” Marinette said, blushing. “I don’t know if it would actually work. If they aren’t stiff enough it might all just collapse on itself.” 

“Let’s try it,” Luka said encouragingly, straightening up. “You probably need what, pliers and wire cutters?”

“Um,” Marinette blinked. “Yeah.” 

“No problem, I’ll be right back.” Luka knocked on the counter twice and went into the back room.

Marinette took a moment to breathe and smooth her hands over her hair. It was almost dry, but when she looked toward the door she could see that the rain was still falling steadily. Still, it wasn’t so bad. She’d have preferred to be stuck somewhere with coffee and cozy chairs, but this wasn’t so bad, and Luka was...really nice.

Really nice. And really nice looking. He had the softest eyes when he looked at her, a clear cerulean rather than the baby blue of her own, and there was something in his slow smiles and easy grins that made her stomach flutter.

And he’d been so kind. Being both clumsy and frequently distracted, Marinette had a lot of experience with being run into, splashed, or knocked over. Usually the most she got was a hurried apology and a hand up, but Luka had done so much more. He hadn’t yelled or blamed her, just taken quiet control of the situation and done his best to make her comfortable. Even though she’d been stuck in here with him, he hadn’t made her uncomfortable at all. Any time she got the least bit fidgety with his presence, he backed off.

Marinette put her head down on the counter and covered her head with her arms with a quiet groan. She barely knew him, she reminded herself. She wasn’t going to do this crush thing again so soon. Just because he’d been kind and sweet and fun and seemed like he kinda liked her…

No, nope, not going there. She turned her head to check on the storm. The windows rattled as a sudden gust drove the rain against them. Marinette groaned again, pouting. She could just go home, she supposed, just suck it up and make a run for it even if it meant she would get soaked. But...

She shot upright as Luka came back, with the tools and a chair, and tried to look composed. “Here, come on back, you might as well sit down while you work,” he said, setting the chair down. He opened the wooden counter for her and, though she felt a little self-conscious, Marinette slipped through. “Here, there’s a spot over here we use for repairs, it’s all yours.” 

“You really don’t have to do all this,” Marinette felt compelled to say as she sat down.

“Are you kidding?” Luka grinned. “I think this is amazing. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

“It might not even work,” Marinette protested weakly.

“Hmm, we’ll see,” Luka replied in a tolerably non-committal tone, but Marinette could see from the look on his face as he turned away that he had complete faith in her. “I’ll try not to hover,” he added, when he noticed her looking at him. “Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“O-okay,” she said, smoothing her hair again self-consciously. He was really cute when he smiled like that, and the way he looked at her gave her butterflies. Marinette turned quickly to the table, telling herself to stop imagining things. 

She picked up the tools and the strings, and soon she forgot about Luka altogether, snipping and twisting and problem-solving. She needed some jewelry fixtures though, she thought absently. She’d need clasps to make bracelets and necklaces, and she could make some nice earrings if she had the findings here, but for now...

“Luka,” she called absently, “Do you have any soldering equipment?”

He didn’t answer right away. Marinette looked up and to her surprise, he was looking right at her. He was on the other side of the counter, leaning with his chin on his hand, watching her with a soft, dreamy expression that made her face heat. “Luka?” she prompted.

“Hmm?” he blinked. “Oh, sorry, I was—you were just really into what you were doing and it was...uh, cute.” He gave her one of those warm smiles that made her stomach flutter. “You’re really cute. Sorry, what were you saying? Did you need something?”

Marinette tried to contain her own smile. “Do you have a soldering iron or something like that?” she asked shyly.

“Sure, I’ll go get it,” he said, sliding off the counter and heading for the door to the back room.

Marinette giggled softly to herself, both flattered and embarrassed by his apparent admiration. If only he wasn’t so cute himself she might be able to keep her cool, but he was simultaneously hot and adorable and she was maybe screaming a little bit on the inside, catching him giving her such a mushy look. She bit her lip and tried to focus on the two strings she was twisting together, one of the heavy gauge and one of the finer ones. 

She darted a quick smile up at Luka as he brought her what she needed, but looked back to her work quickly. The safety glasses were a bit big, but she managed to get them balanced on her nose, ignoring Luka’s quiet chuckle from behind her.

Marinette paused, and bit her lip, wavering in indecision for a moment. Then she glanced up at Luka. “Can I, um, borrow your hand?” she asked, feeling her face warm at her own daring.

Luka grinned and leaned up against her workspace, holding his hand out. “As long as you need.” 

Marinette took his hand and turned it over, wrapping the string around his finger to get an idea of the length she needed. “How’s that?” she asked, frowning. “Comfortable? Or too tight?”

“A little tight,” he said, and Marinette adjusted. “Better,” he agreed. 

“Got it.” Marinette said, struggling to hold the strings while reaching for the sharpie in her art kit. With Luka’s help she managed to get the length marked. She smiled at him. “You can have your hand back now.”

“If you’re sure,” Luka said with a grin, and nope, she was not thinking about how warm and smooth his voice was or how he was very definitely flirting with her. He was a musician, after all, of course he had a nice voice. And just because she’d been feeling down on herself lately was no reason to go all gooey inside over the first boy who was nice to her. She definitely did not let her fingers trail over his palm as he pulled away, and she definitely did not see him swallow. 

It took a little more trial and error, but finally, she had a successful finished product. 

“There,” Marinette said, setting down the tools. She picked the ring up in the pliers and turned it, examining it critically. “I think that should work.” She grinned up at Luka, dropping the ring on her palm and holding it out to him. “Want to try it?” 

Luka smiled at her, and he took the ring from her palm without moving his eyes from hers. He slid it on his finger and wiggled his fingers experimentally. 

“Nice,” he grinned.

“Is it comfortable?” Marinette asked, leaning over and taking his hand in both of hers to look. “I might need to polish where I did the soldering so it’s not rough, but…” 

“Yeah, but otherwise it feels good. A little different from the one I usually wear, but not bad.” He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“What?” Marinette asked, tilting her head as she looked up at him. 

“It might sound stupid,” he said slowly, meeting her eyes. “But I played a lot of songs on these strings, you know? So I feel kind of...attached in a way I didn’t expect. Does that make sense or am I just crazy?”

Marinette hmmed thoughtfully. “No, I can see that. That makes sense.”

“I was thinking that if this worked out and you wanted to make more, we could sell them here in the store,” Luka mused. “But now I’m thinking people might be willing to buy something like this on commission as well. Bring in their old strings, ones they used for a special moment or whatever, and make them a special piece of jewelry from them. That’d be awesome.” 

“You really think people would want that?” Marinette suddenly realized she was still holding onto his hand and let go quickly. Luka smiled, and his blue eyes flicked to hers in a way that said he wouldn’t have minded if she had held on a little longer.

“Hell, I’d commission a couple of pieces from you right now,” Luka said, leaning on the wall to look over her workspace. “I could swap Mom’s strings out for her and she’d think I was just doing her a favor until I brought her jewelry made out of her old strings. She’ll flip and my sister will be soooooo pissed that I found the perfect gift—and then she’d demand a set for herself.” He chuckled. “How’d it go with the knot ideas?”

“Oh,” Marinette turned back to the bench, motioning him closer, though she shivered a little when he leaned over her and his breath ghosted across her neck. “I think I made it work,” she said, pointing at several strings she had laid out and woven into designs similar to the ones she’d drawn. “I need some other pieces, though, like a crimp to put here and here to hold it together—I can solder the prototype but it won’t look as clean as it would with a proper jewelry crimp—and then it would need a clasp of some sort. And I thought these would make cute earrings—” she pointed to some strings she’d laid out in a shorter, rounder knot layout. “But again, I’d need crimps and findings to make it stay.” 

“That’s fantastic,” Luka said admiringly. “You’re amazing, Marinette.” 

Marinette giggled. “Oh, I’m—well. Thanks.” 

“I know this wasn’t how you planned to spend your day,” Luka said, smiling down at her. “But...I’m glad we met, although I’m still sorry for drenching you.” They both laughed, and both turned in surprise as the bell on the shop door rang for the first time that day.

“Hi, welcome,” Luka said, straightening up. “How’s it doing out there?”

“Wet,” the man grunted, “But not as gnarly as it was. I’m here to pick up an order.” 

“Sure, let me grab that for you and—”

Marinette tuned them out, picking up the soldering gun again. She carefully finished the connection points on the bracelet and earrings, doing as clean a job as she could manage. Then she stood up and stretched.

“Oh, hey, you got a new girl working?”

Marinette started, and turned wide eyes toward the counter where Luka was standing with the customer, who was eyeing her appreciatively. Luka glanced back at her and moved between her and the customer smoothly with a smile. “Not exactly. Marinette’s been working on some new merchandise for us.” He turned toward Marinette, gesturing to the bracelet. “May I?”

“Oh, yes, it should be okay now,” Marinette said quickly.

“Your skirt’s riding up,” Luka murmured as he leaned over to pick up the bracelet. Marinette gasped and tried to tug the hem of her improvised t-shirt dress down as discreetly as she could. Of course she would forget how short it was just as someone came in. Luka took his time leaning over in front of her to pick up the bracelet, blocking her from view for a long moment so she could get adjusted. 

“Marinette’s working on a line of guitar-string jewelry for us,” Luka explained, laying the bracelet across his hands as he turned back to the customer. “Might be a cool gift for your  _ wife _ , huh?” Luka said, still smiling but with a slight edge to his voice. “It’s almost your anniversary, right?” 

“Oh, uh, right,” the big man said, shaking his head slightly and focusing on the bracelet in Luka’s hands. “Oh, hey, that’s pretty cool, actually.” 

“We were just discussing the idea of offering them as custom pieces,” Luka continued. “You bring in your old strings, maybe ones you’ve used for some special moment? And Marinette turns them into something special for your loved one.” 

“That’s probably the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard,” the customer chuckled. “My wife would love it. How much?”

“We’re still working out the details,” Luka smiled coolly. “It’s kind of experimental right now, but if you’d like I can give you a call when we’ve finalized things?” 

“Sure, that’d be great. You guys have my number. Thanks.” The man grinned and gave a half-wave to Marinette. “Have a good day, Miss.”

Marinette managed a smile while Luka escorted the customer out. As soon as the door was closed, Luka turned back. “You okay?” he asked seriously.

“Yeah. A little embarrassed,” she tugged at the hem of her shirt again, “But I’ll live. Of course I forget right when there’s actually someone here to see.” 

Luka put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry if he made you uncomfortable. Or if I did,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“No, you were trying to help,” Marinette smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he smiled back, and handed her back the bracelet. “So, what do you think? I have to talk to my mom, of course, but if she wanted to offer something like this, how would you feel about it?”

“Hmm,” Marinette frowned thoughtfully, checking the time. “They didn’t take that long to make. I don’t think I could make too many at once. If we limit the custom orders and set clear expectations for turnaround, it should be doable. For the other pieces, we could possibly agree on a minimum weekly delivery, and then—what?” Marinette narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she realized Luka was giving her That Smile again.

“Nothing, sorry. You’re just...very professional.” 

Marinette glared at him. “I  _ am _ a professional. And If you tell me it’s cute I will hit you.” 

“I would never patronize you that way,” Luka promised, one hand over his heart. “And you are absolutely cute no matter what you’re doing.”

Marinette flushed, and smacked his arm. “Don’t you know better than to flirt while you’re trying to do business?” 

“I do, I do,” Luka chuckled, raising his hands defensively. “I’m sorry. I promise, no more flirting on business time. So do you have a business card I can give my mom? In the meantime, maybe you could put us together an estimate for pricing and a proposal for that minimum number you were talking about?”

“Certainly, I can do that,” Marinette said briskly, and gave Luka a dark look when his mouth twitched. She stepped over to her bag and dug out the small monogrammed sleeve that held her business cards. “How would you feel about me contracting out some of the actual assembly to local young people in need of employment?” 

Luka coughed, and Marinette was sure he was trying not to laugh as he took the pink business card . “As long as quality still meets an acceptable minimum standard, I think we could live with that. What sort of quality control would you put in place if you went that route?”

“I’d inspect each piece prior to delivery,” Marinette replied, “If I determine any pieces to be substandard, I’ll replace them, and deduct the cost of the wasted materials from my next invoice. If you find any upon inspection that you feel aren’t up to standard, I’ll inspect it at the time of my next delivery and replace it if necessary.”

“What about the custom orders?” Luka asked. “We can’t replace the materials in that case.”

“I’ll do all of the custom orders myself, unless one of my apprentices reliably demonstrates consistent aptitude. If I think one of them is up to it, though, I’ll discuss it with you first and their first few attempts would be heavily supervised.”

Luka smiled. “Well, again, our owner Madame Couffaine will have to approve these terms, but that sounds reasonable to me. Please include it in the terms of your proposal. When should I tell her to expect it?”

“By the end of the week. If possible, I’d like Madame Couffaine to review it and set up a meeting by the end of the following week.”

“I think we can make that work.”

“Excellent. Happy to do business with you, Mr. Couffaine,” Marinette said, offering her hand. 

“Likewise, Miss—” He checked her business card quickly. “Dupain-Cheng.” 

They stood there for a moment, increasingly dopy smiles on their faces, and then Marinette looked out the window. “It looks like it’s let up, so...I should go.” 

“Would it ruin everything if I kissed you right now?” Luka asked.

Marinette smiled slowly, trying not to show the way her heart was pounding. So much for all her resolutions. “It might. If you do it badly.” 

Luka chuckled through his nose, shifting subtly closer. “So if I promise to do it well, can I kiss you?”

“Are we done talking business?” Marinette asked, tilting her head as she looked up at him, eyes twinkling with more bravado than she felt.

“I’m definitely done with business,” Luka told her seriously. 

“Then you may,” she said, equally seriously, and the next thing she knew, she was pressed back against the counter and Luka was kissing her hungrily, one hand planted on the counter next to them and the other tangled in her hair. She slipped her arms up around his neck, closed her eyes, and kissed him back for all she was worth, and it  _ definitely  _ wasn’t bad.

Someone cleared their throat. Loudly. Luka bolted upright, staring into the smirking face of his sister.

“Juleka,” he said—nearly whined. “What the hell are you even doing here?” 

“You haven’t answered your phone for the past two hours, dumbass,” Juleka told him dryly. “Mom sent me to check on you.” And of course she’d come through the back. Though he might not even have registered the bell if someone had come in through the front. “Who’s your friend?” Juleka asked pointedly.

“Um…” Luka glanced at Marinette, who glanced at him, and then suddenly she burst into slightly hysterical giggles, and he couldn’t help joining in. “That’s kind of a long story,” he managed, and they both giggled uncontrollably as Juleka raised her eyebrows. “Just—Just give me a minute, Jules, she was getting ready to leave anyway.” 

“Hell of a goodbye kiss,” Juleka observed in her flat way, and then turned to go into the back. 

“Hell yeah, it was,” Luka muttered, grinning at the floor, before turning to look at Marinette. “Sorry for my crappy timing. Maybe we could revisit this sometime when I’m not supposed to working? Maybe have dinner together first?”

“Maybe,” Marinette smiled, packing her things back in her bag. “We’ll see.” 

Luka leaned on the counter and grinned. “It wasn’t bad, right?” 

Marinette giggled, without looking at him. “Not bad at all. May I have my shoes and my clothes please?” 

Luka went to get them, grinning like a fool. Marinette held onto his arm to steady herself as she put on her shoes, and then she took her bag and the bag containing her wet clothes. 

“I really enjoyed spending time with you today,” Luka grinned. “If that wasn’t obvious.” He slipped a card out of his pocket and handed it to her, turning it so she could see the handwritten number on the back. “Here’s my number.”

Marinette paused and programmed it into her phone right then, sending him a message. “And now you have mine.” Luka bit back a shit-eating grin, staring at the floor as he opened the door for her to keep from giving himself away. As she passed, Marinette popped up on her toes to kiss him lightly, and gave him a sassy grin as she slipped out of the door. 

He shut the door and turned his back to it, letting his stupid grin take over his face. Juleka must have heard the bell because she came out of the back. 

“So,” Luka said conversationally, heading back to the long-abandoned pile of boxes he’d been shelving. “What’s it going to cost me for you to maybe not mention this to Mom?” 

“How do you know I didn’t already tell her I found you about to ravish a girl on the store counter.” 

Luka flushed. “One, I was not. Two, you’re my sister and I know you, and you know me, so you knew I was going to ask that question, so I know you haven’t told Mom before finding what you could get out of me. So. What’ll it take?” 

“What are you offering?” Juleka folded her arms.

Luka grinned. “How about some new jewelry?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Luka plays for her is Living Louder by the Cab, but the lines he sang first are from Look What God Gave Her by Thomas Rhett.


	4. Someone Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They thought they were so different, but it turns out they're just two blushy dorks stuck in an elevator, falling in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend a bathroom break and a beverage (maybe peppermint tea) before you sit down to this one folks, it's kinda long. I keep trying to read this through 'one more time' to make sure I've done a clean edit and every time I end up adding a couple hundred words so I'm declaring it DONE and if there typoes we'll all just live with it. I never catch them all anyway. 
> 
> It occurs to me that maybe I owe damagectrl some credit? I didn't consciously get the idea of a collection of first meetings from them but I definitely read their fic A Series of Meets (and you should too) so it's entirely possible it influenced me. It's a great collection and you should all go read it.
> 
> Also Azeran I legitimately can't remember whether I wrote the line about fashion in here before or after I complimented yours, so I maybe stole that too, I'm not sure, though if I did I think it was only the part about fashion and self-expression. But everyone should go read The Emotional Quandary of a Well Designed Jacket too.
> 
> I think that covers any accidental thievery I may have committed.

Marinette was a people watcher. She always had been; it was kind of a professional requirement, in her own mind. There were fashion designers who didn’t notice people much, and in Marinette’s opinion, it always showed in their clothing. Marinette didn’t want to be that kind of designer, the kind that started hyperventilating if their models deviated from the standard look in the slightest, so she paid attention to the people around her—to their shapes, to their colors, to their styles. She’d seen so many interesting people since moving into her high rise apartment, and since she saw most of them at least a few times a week, she’d been able to learn more about them than the people she saw on the street. There was the plump lady with the big smile who lived a few doors from her whose hair was spiky purple but whose clothes were earth-toned and flowy. Marinette nicknamed her Allium in her mind after the flower. There was Cat Lady Carrie on the fourth floor, who always entered the elevator covered in multicolored cat fur as if she wore it with pride over her mostly black, but otherwise extremely practical, wardrobe. There was Workout Maniac Kim from the seventh floor, who had a peppy greeting for everyone and was always wearing gym shorts except on the very coldest days, when he condescended to wear sweatpants. Marinette hadn’t been sure why he rode the elevator at all until a chance comment during one of their short conversations revealed that he had an old knee injury that made stairs difficult for him. 

Today when the elevator stopped on its journey to the ground, the doors opened on The Boy From The Sixth Floor, which was kind of a stupid name, but even after a couple of months of running into him, she hadn’t come up with anything better, because she had trouble picking one thing that defined him. He was tall, with pierced ears and shaggy black hair dyed blue at the tips. He usually kept his gaze on the floor, but he always made eye contact briefly as he greeted her or when he uttered his polite, “Have a good day,” on his way out of the elevator, so she knew his eyes were blue. His wardrobe varied a lot; he clearly wasn’t someone who adhered to any particular capital-S style, and he just wore what he liked, but almost always in layers, dominated by shades of blue and black and white, and almost always with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He had a narrow build and slightly slumped shoulders, but she could see strength in his bare forearms, accented by the thick bracelets he wore on one wrist. 

Marinette was curious about him but he seemed—not shy exactly, but hesitant, reserved, like he enjoyed quiet, and it made her less willing to strike up a conversation with him than others. People like him probably thought people like her were boring, anyway, so aside from polite eye contact when one of them was entering or exiting, Marinette tried to keep her eyes forward and not bother him with her presence. It did mean she never got a good look at the tattoos extending from beneath his sleeves down to the backs of his hands, which was a shame. Marinette didn’t have any tattoos herself but they fascinated her as an art form. She was herself in the business of decorating the human body, after all, just...less permanently. She had toyed briefly with the idea of a clothing line that featured openings in the most common tattoo locations, but it would be a hard sell to the higher ups, so she had shelved the idea. Probably no one would be interested in such a thing anyway, right?

“Evening,” he said quietly, as he stepped onto the elevator, his blue eyes flicking to hers and then away quickly. He always spoke softly, and his voice was smooth and pleasant. She smiled politely and nodded in response to his greeting as he moved to the other corner and leaned one shoulder against the wall. He had an instrument case slung over his shoulder, but Marinette didn’t get a good look at it. That explained the slight slouch, she observed, if he was used to carrying something like that around. She remembered he frequently had earbuds around his neck when he came in. Not a big deal, many people did, but if he was a musician that would make sense. His t-shirts had a lot of band logos on them, too, now that she came to think of it. Interesting.

Marinette was so lost in thought that she was caught completely off guard when the elevator suddenly jerked, moved and then jerked again, She tried to take a step to steady herself but the pencil skirt she was wearing didn’t allow her legs to go as wide as she tried to plant them, and she tipped over with a yelp. 

Her companion moved to catch her, and she fell into his chest as he got one arm under her and grabbed the railing with his other hand to steady them both. He  _ was _ strong, Marinette thought thankfully, half bent over the arm around her waist that was the only thing keeping her from falling. She grabbed onto him automatically as the elevator shuddered again. 

The jolting only lasted a moment before they ground to a halt, but they both stood braced for another several seconds, waiting for...something. Marinette had time to notice there was a protectiveness in the way he held her. It would have been nice, if she wasn’t scared out of her mind. 

Both of them relaxed at the same time, apparently convinced that...whatever had happened, was over.

“You okay?” he asked in his soft voice, putting his hands on her upper arms and gently pushing her upright.

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, looking at the ceiling of the elevator as if it had answers. “What was that?” 

“I’m not sure,” he answered, looking around as well. “But it sounds like we’re not moving anymore.” 

Marinette made a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. She didn’t even realize her fingers were still clutching the fabric of his jacket until he took her hands in his and gently unhooked them.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, snatching her hands back quickly and moving back to her side of the elevator. “Um, thanks for catching me.” God, how embarrassing.

“No worries.” He crossed to the control panel and pressed the alarm button. The response they got from maintenance wasn’t encouraging. They weren’t sure what had happened but they were sending a technician to check the pulley system. 

“At least it’s not a power outage,” he said, sounding like he was speaking more to himself than Marinette, “So we still have climate control and ventilation.” They both stood there stupidly for a moment before he made a slight  _ oh well _ gesture with his arms, and then sat down and stretched his long legs out in front of him. 

“I guess we might as well get comfortable,” he sighed, taking off his jacket and the hoodie he wore underneath it, leaving him in a ripped white t-shirt. “My name’s Luka,” he said, drawing his knees up and setting his elbows across them. “Do you feel comfortable telling me yours?”

“Oh,” Marinette said, a little surprised by his phrasing. “It’s um, Marinette.” Reluctantly, she slipped off her heels and leaned back against the elevator wall with a sigh, gripping the rail a little too tightly.

“Marinette,” Luka smiled, taking his phone out of his pocket and beginning to type, presumably to text whoever he was supposed to be meeting. “That’s pretty.” He glanced up at her. “You look nervous. Are you scared of closed spaces or is it me?”

“What?” Marinette’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, it’s not you at all! Or, well, not anything about you specifically. I’d be just as nervous with anyone else. It’s not even really the space, I’m just...kind of a nervous person in general. Always lots of energy, and not too many outlets for it. I’m sorry if I made you think that.” She released her death grip on the rail and dug in her bag for her own phone, figuring she’d better let Alya know about her situation. 

Luka smiled. “You just seemed uncomfortable, and sometimes people like you are a little freaked out by people like me.” He made a gesture that indicated his dyed hair and piercings.

“Oh, no, no, you look good,” Marinette said quickly, and then backpedaled, horrified at herself. “I mean, I like your look, it suits you! That’s what fashion should be about, expressing yourself.” She smoothed down her skirt absently. “Just because I’m me and you’re you doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

Luka’s smile spread slowly across his face. “I’m glad you think so. Are you sure you don’t want to sit down? I can move a little if you need more space.”

Marinette flushed. “I’m fine. Really.”

Luka raised his eyebrows. He looked her over for a moment and then nodded as though he understood something. “I can look the other way while you get situated if you want.” 

Marinette’s face burned and she covered her red cheeks with her hands. “Would you mind?”

“Of course not.” Luka faced the wall, which thankfully wasn’t mirrored, and Marinette got down on her knees on the floor and tried to find a position that wouldn’t have her skirt riding up her thighs every time she moved. She let out a frustrated huff. 

“Of course I decided to wear a skirt today,” she muttered. “ _ Of course _ .” She took off her cropped jacket and spread it across her knees, but it was too small to really help much. Still, it was the best she could do. 

“Okay, you can look now,” she sighed. 

Luka turned around. Seeing her situation, he picked up his hoodie and offered it to her. 

“Thank you,” Marinette said gratefully, accepting it. It was large enough to almost totally cover her legs no matter how she sat. “That’s much better.”

He smiled. “The situation sucks as it is. I don’t want either of us to be any more uncomfortable than necessary.”

Marinette smiled back, the first genuine smile she had managed since the elevator ground to a halt. “You’re very thoughtful, Luka.”

All he said was a soft, “thank you,” but Marinette thought he was blushing just a little. It was...sweet.

It gave her the courage to say, after a few minutes of silence, “Were you heading anywhere important?”

“Band practice,” Luka said, nodding at the instrument case beside him. 

“Oh, what do you play?” Marinette asked, craning her neck to see the case. 

“Electric guitar,” Luka said, shifting a little so she could see it better. 

“That’s so cool,” Marinette said brightly. “I played the flute when I was a kid but I never really had a passion for it. What kind of music? How long have you been playing?”

“Practically my whole life,” Luka smiled.

Marinette gasped. “Sorry! Am I talking too much? I told you, too much energy and not enough outlet for it, and pretty soon it all goes to running my mouth, but we can be quiet if you’d rather—“

She stopped as Luka began to laugh quietly, one hand covering his mouth. His fingernails were painted a shiny black, she noticed. 

“You’re funny, Marinette,” Luka grinned. “You were fine, I don’t mind talking. But tell me about you, if that’s okay.”

“Me?” Marinette blinked. “Oh, I’m...well I’m not that interesting, really.” Not like he was,

Luka hmmed. “Tell me anyway. You know my passion’s music, what’s yours?”

Something about the intent way he was looking at her made her face feel warm. “Um, fashion design,” she said shyly, sure it would sound shallow to someone like Luka.

“Really,” he said, eyebrows raising slightly. “My sister models part time.”

“I—oh, really?” Marinette managed not to gape at him but it was a near thing.

“Yeah, she’s been doing it for a few years now.” Luka pulled out his phone again and fiddled with it for a moment, and then offered it to Marinette. She took it and looked curiously at the photo. Luka was standing with a girl with striking amber brown eyes and long black hair. She was clearly made up and styled for a runway show. Luka had his arm around her shoulders and though his posture was relaxed as always, he had an adorably over-enthusiastic wide smile and his eyes were lit up with pride. His sister had an indulgent smile on her face that clearly said  _ my brother is a dork and I adore him _ . 

“Oh!” Marinette gasped. “I’ve seen her with you before, I thought she was your—” she stopped, and blushed. 

“Girlfriend?” Luka smiled, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, we’ve gotten that before because we’re so close in age and we don’t look much alike. Juleka looks more like our mom and I, unfortunately, got Dad’s genes.” 

“It’s not unfortunate, you’re really cute!” Marinette scolded, speaking thoughtlessly in her anger at him putting himself down. She couldn’t stand to hear people talk badly about themselves. Luka looked down at the floor between his knees, presumably to hide the smirk she could still see the corner of. 

“Well,” he said, not looking at her. “Thanks, but...still no girlfriend, just an awesome kid sister.” 

“You’re so cute together,” Marinette continued in a rush, hoping to brush past the awkwardness. “I mean, now that I understand the relationship I can totally see how much you care about each other!” Marinette looked at the picture again and giggled. “You’re really proud of her aren’t you? It looks like you guys are close.” 

“We are,” Luka said simply, taking his phone back when she handed it to him and swiping through a few more pictures. “And I am proud of her. She had some major hurdles but she kept chasing her dreams.” He turned the phone back to her, showing her another picture of his sister, this time clearly a professional shot.

“Her eyes are amazing,” Marinette observed.

“So are yours,” Luka commented, and then they both looked up, perhaps equally startled at his statement. She could see him swallow as his cheeks tinted pink. 

“Thank you,” Marinette said with a smile, deciding to save him from the clear indecision he was suffering between trying to say something else, perhaps to play it off, and keeping his mouth shut lest he make it worse. It was a worry she was very familiar with, after all. “So she’s been modeling a while? I don’t remember her but you see so many models, you know, and I’m always looking at the clothes. With eyes like that, she should really try cosmetic ads, she’d be killer.”

Luka smiled, an affectionate look on his face. “Her agent’s looking into that, actually.”

“Awesome!” Marinette clapped her hands. “Oh, she’ll be amazing! You’ll have to let me know which ad campaigns she works with so I can check them out!” Luka’s smile broadened into a grin, and for once his gaze remained steady on her. 

Suddenly self-conscious, Marinette reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and smooth the rest back. She’d lost a few strands out of her bun during the elevator-quake, it seemed, and they were tickling her neck. Luka looked away quickly and cleared his throat, but he asked, “So do you design professionally, or just for fun?” 

“Both,” Marinette answered, still a little fluttered. “I mean, I work at a design firm but I’m just starting out, so I don’t do as much actual design as I hope to in the future. Right now it’s a lot of sewing and altering and trying to find tactful ways to suggest that maybe my boss has lost her mind every once in a while.”

Luka covered his chuckle with his hand. “That’s an important job.”

“I also run a boutique business online for custom commissions,” Marinette continued, smiling a little herself. “It means I’m working a lot, but it keeps the creativity alive even when my job makes me feel like a soulless drone.”

Luka laughed—not loud, but a full laugh and not just a quiet chuckle. Marinette found herself smiling, pleased with her accomplishment. 

“You’re funny, Marinette,” Luka said again, his smile warm, not at all like the cool politeness she was used to from him.

He...really was cute when he smiled like that. And his eyes were nice—softer than she’d realized before.

A silence descended that wasn’t quite awkward but wasn’t quite comfortable, either, like neither of them wanted the conversation to stop, but neither knew exactly where to take it from here, either.

Marinette took a breath, bit her lip, and then plunged onward. “Do you, um...do you want to see some of my work? Since we don’t have anything else to do...”

Luka brightened. “Yeah, I’d love to!”

Marinette, still smiling, tucked that loose strand of hair back again and reached for her bag. She pulled out her sketchbook and set it aside, and then pulled out the portfolio that had been underneath it and shyly offered it to Luka. He took it and then hesitated a moment before gesturing to the space next to her. “May I?”

“Mmhmm!” Marinette made a token shift to the side as Luka got on his knees and shuffled over to the space beside her. He settled next to her, his arm brushing hers slightly but only because the elevator just wasn’t all that wide. He smelled nice, she thought absently as he opened her portfolio across his lap. It occurred to her to be glad she was stuck in the elevator with someone clean. She leaned closer for a second to reposition her legs; one was starting to fall asleep tucked under her as it was. With Luka’s hoodie to keep her covered she could sit more comfortably.

“I like your perfume,” Luka commented. “Subtle. It’s nice.” Then he glanced up with a slightly startled look on his face, like his mouth had gotten ahead of him—a feeling she was very familiar with. “Sorry, was that weird?” he asked with a slight hunch of his shoulders and a lopsided grin. “It’s just—there’s a girl on my floor that wears way too much and I was just thinking I’m glad I’m not here with her.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “The one with the yellow designer jacket and super expensive sunglasses?”

Luka grinned. “I’ve never noticed the sunglasses but yeah, the jacket’s um...hard to miss.” 

Marinette smiled. “It would be awful to be stuck in here with her. Sometimes I can barely stand it until we get to the lobby. And honestly, I was just thinking I’m glad I’m here with someone like you and not, like, Kim fresh from a workout. I mean, he’s a nice guy, but…” She shrugged, wrinkling her nose. 

Luka chuckled, then cleared his throat and looked back to her portfolio. He didn’t say anything as he went through it, but he studied each sketch and its paired photographs with great care. Marinette fell to examining the tattoos on the arm nearest her, finally able to indulge her interest, especially since the t-shirt covered considerably less than his outer layers and bared parts of the tattoo she hadn’t even glimpsed before. The design flowed along the lines of his arm nicely, each individual element clearly considered in light of the entire piece. The music themes didn’t surprise her but the nautical ones did. There was a compass rose in particular that she found very interesting, with symbols at each cardinal point that surely meant something to him. 

“These are amazing, Marinette.” She was so lost in her thoughts that his gentle voice made her jump. Luka turned back several pages from the end. “I really like this one.”

“Really?” Marinette asked, surprised.

“Well, it’s not my personal style,” Luka smiled without looking up from the page. “But I can see the art in it. It’s very evocative. When I look at it, I feel like I know something about the person you made it for. And that’s what you were saying, right? Fashion should be about expressing yourself. I feel like this one is really true to that intention. It might not express me as a person, but it does express someone and I love that about it.” 

Marinette stared at him in surprise for so long that Luka looked up to meet her eyes. She’d been leaning in to look at the book in his lap and when he raised his head his face was suddenly closer to her than she expected. 

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked, and she jerked back slightly.

“No, no, not at all. I’m—that’s great, what you said, that makes me really happy. I guess I didn’t expect you to be so thoughtful about it.”

Luka tilted his head slightly, a bit of amusement flickering across his expression. “Just because my art isn’t your art doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it, once you show me how. I mean, I’ll admit,” he looked back down at the portfolio, “There’s a lot here I don’t understand, and even though I feel like I could describe this person, I’m not sure I’d be able to articulate why I felt that way. But, you know, that’s how we learn about each other, right?” He smiled that warm smile at her again and Marinette felt her pulse speeding up as her face heated. 

“Sorry, am I too much?” he asked, leaning back a little. “Juleka says I’m too intense sometimes.”

“I don’t mind it,” Marinette said, smiling shyly. “I like it.” 

There was no doubt that color washed his cheeks this time, and for a moment his expression clearly showed how pleased he was before he looked down and closed the portfolio, smoothing the pages carefully so nothing wrinkled. “You can tell me if I’m overstepping, but...is that new stuff you’ve been working on?” Luka indicated her sketchbook. 

“Oh! Yes, it is,” Marinette said, picking it up and holding it to her.

“Would you be willing to share it with me?” Luka asked. “I’m really curious. Only if you’d be comfortable though, no pressure.” 

“You really want to see?” Marinette asked, and she pursed her lips for a moment when he nodded. “I don’t mind,” she said slowly. “But...I need you to put your phone where I can see it. I have some client work in here that I can’t allow to get out, and I can’t tell you who it’s for. One set of eyes is no big deal, but I can’t have pictures going out or they’d never work with me again.” 

Luka blinked at her for a moment, and then pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. 

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled, taking it. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I can’t risk my client’s privacy based on my intuition.”

“I understand,” Luka said with a slightly lopsided smile, “And we did just meet, after all. It would be completely reasonable for you not to trust me.” 

Marinette just smiled and set his phone carefully on the floor where he could reach it, but not without her seeing. Then she offered her sketchbook to him. Luka took it with one hand, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“You sure? I don’t have to look at the whole thing, you can just pick what you want to show me.” 

Marinette shrugged. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. Like I said, one set of eyes won’t matter, and I don’t think you’re going to sit here and memorize anything just to steal my designs,” she teased, leaning over to bump her shoulder against his.

“Hardly,” Luka chuckled, running his fingers lightly over the cover of the book before opening it.

Luka went over the pages of the sketchbook with the same attention he’d given her portfolio. A couple of times he smiled, and Marinette peeked around him to see what he was looking at. One was a page where the design had just been a total failure and she had written some unkind things about the inventor of that particular fabric in the margin. One was a cutesy, flirty outfit she’d designed for herself. Luka darted a glance at her, murmured, “I like the ruffles,” and turned the page, that hint of pink back on his cheeks. 

He paused a long time on the commission she had been trying to safeguard, but that didn’t surprise her, as it probably had the most in common with his own aesthetic. She was, however, completely surprised by what came out of his mouth as he poured over the design.

“Jagged Stone,” Luka said absently, eyes still glued to the page.

“W-what?” Marinette stammered.

“This stuff, it makes me think of Jagged St—” He looked up, catching Marinette’s expression. She wasn’t sure what kind of face she was making. Certainly on the inside she was too mixed up to settle on one. Horror, fear, delight, admiration, hilarity—she couldn’t seem to decide  _ how _ to react. “Holy shit,” Luka said, his eyes traveling over her face. “Your mystery client is Jagged fucking Stone?” 

“Um…” Marinette said slowly, “I...can’t confirm that.” 

“You don’t have to,” Luka said, still staring at her. “There’s no one else alive with Jagged’s style, and this—” He held up the sketchbook, turning it toward her. “It can’t be anyone else, Marinette. I’ve been following Jagged Stone’s career since I was old enough to pronounce his name.” 

Marinette bit her lip, and sighed. “Please don’t tell anyone,” she nearly begged. “If it is Jagged, and I’m not saying it is, I can’t let this get out, I’d have to scrap everything and start over, if he’d even still want to have me—”

“Of course, of course,” Luka said, putting the sketchbook down quickly and taking her hand between both of his. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Of course I’d never say anything, not that anyone would likely believe me if I did. And Jagged would be crazy to fire you. Uh, if it actually was Jagged you worked for,” he added hurriedly. “But I mean, Marinette, look at this.” He let go of her hand and picked up the sketchbook again. “You get him. This is so original, it’s not like anything he’s ever worn before, and yet it’s so Jagged at the same time, I’m just—I’m blown away, really.” 

“You...really think so?” Marinette asked hesitantly. “You like it? You think Jagged will like it?” 

“He’s eccentric, not stupid, so yeah, I know he will.” Luka sighed, looking back down at the book. “Man, I wish we could get a designer for our band with even half your talent. Is this one for an album cover? No, never mind, you probably can’t tell me that.” 

“Tell me about your band,” Marinette said, drawing up her knees under his hoodie and wrapping her arms around her legs. “Have you been playing with them long?”

“Individually I have,” he said, still looking through her sketchbook. “But we just decided to group up a couple months ago. I’ve played with a few other bands and they were all cool people but I never quite clicked with them the way I have with Kitty Section.” He chuckled. “Helps that Juleka’s our bassist, and her girlfriend does our vocals, and then Rose has been friends with our drummer since they were kids. I think maybe that’s why we vibe together so well.”

“That’s your band name, Kitty Section?” 

“Yes. It’s pretty much all we’ve got right now, plus a few songs I’ve written. We haven’t been together long enough to put a look and a brand together. Not like these,” he sighed, shaking his head as he turned a page. He hadn’t lifted his eyes once the whole time he’d spoken. “You are really good at what you do, Marinette.” 

Marinette blushed hotly. When she showed her designs to laypeople, she was used to being told she was “talented” like she hadn’t worked hard and studied to get her skills where they were, or that she was “creative” like it was something she did without thought or purpose. She liked Luka’s compliment better. 

“Wait, did you say you wrote the songs?” she asked, eyes widening slightly.

“Well, I write the melodies,” Luka replied, resting his chin on his hand as he turned the page. “Rose mostly does the lyrics. I work a lot easier with music than words. I have a feeling or a thought that I want to express, I work it out in the music, and then Rose takes the demo I give her and puts words to it. Usually she’s pretty spot on in a kinda metaphorical way.” He made a so-so gesture with his hand. “If I don’t love it, we go back and forth until we get something we’re happy with.”

“Do you, um...do you have any of your music with you?” Marinette asked. 

Luka looked up, startled. “Uh, yeah, I’ve got some on my phone. Just some tracks we recorded ourselves, though, nothing like, professional.”

“Can I listen?” 

Luka looked like she’d just handed him a million bucks and Jagged’s autograph. “Really? I mean, sure, let me—” He started to reach for his phone, and then closed the sketchbook and handed it back to her. Marinette took it gratefully, and Luka picked up his phone and queued up the music. “It’d sound better if I had better speakers,” he muttered almost to himself as he set the phone back in the place Marinette had put it before. 

Marinette gave the sketchbook back to him, leaned back and closed her eyes, listening to the music. It was...eclectic. She almost would have said that the band was still finding its sound, but it didn’t feel like that. It just felt like they embraced a wide reading of their genre. There was a really fun song about unicorns and cats and…

Marinette’s eyes flew open and she dug in her bag for her pencil case. Then she plucked her sketchbook out of Luka’s hands and turned to a blank page. 

“Marinette?” Luka asked, sounding slightly bewildered though she didn’t look up at him to see.

“Can you play that last one again?” Marinette asked distractedly, setting her pencil moving across the page.

“Yeah, sure,” Luka said, still sounding puzzled as he reached for the phone. 

“Put it on repeat one please.”

“Okay...” 

Marinette began writing. First the name of the band, then phrases that jumped out at her from the songs, then words the music called to mind, then words that described Luka himself. Shapes and colors swirled around in her mind as she wrote, and then she began to sketch. She heard Luka’s intake of breath beside her but forgot it before she could even glance up.

She paused here and there, swapping out colored pencils and bobbing her head to the rhythm while she thought, but she kept a nice, smooth creative flow. It was easy, designing free form like this, not having to worry about making it look like her design house’s style, or even Jagged’s, just...creating something wholly new. It was nice. It was  _ fun _ .

When she sat back with a sigh, stretching her cramping fingers, she realized Luka had moved back across from her and his guitar was in his lap.

“You’ve been playing?” Marinette asked, blinking. How had she not noticed that?

Luka smiled, and swept his pick down the strings, sending a muted series of notes into the small space. “Just playing along with the song. It doesn’t sound that great without an amp but at least this way I get a little practice. You were clearly in the zone and I didn’t want to be in the way. And...to be honest I had to do something or I’d have burned a hole through you with my eyes. Are you finished? Can I see?”

“I—oh.” Marinette looked down at her work and blushed. “Yeah, I...you know it’s probably stupid, we didn’t even talk about what you were looking for, but you know, I heard the song and I had the idea and—well it made sense at the time. It’s probably all wrong, though,” she sighed, holding the sketchbook to her chest. “I mean, without a proper consultation…I haven’t even met your other band members, just you, and…”

“May I see?” Luka asked, reaching toward the sketchbook but not touching either it, or her. “I mean, I tried not to watch, I didn’t know if you’d want me to, but what I did see—please?” He gave her the most irresistible puppy eyes she’d ever seen on a grown man. 

She giggled and looked down. Marinette took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She always had this moment, after an initial sketch was finished, this sudden conviction that everything she’d just done was awful, but she’d learned to ignore it, to just suck it up and hand over the design and let the client decide. She offered the sketchbook to Luka with a nervous smile.

He took it, his eyes lingering on her as he turned it to face him, and then he looked down at the sketch and sucked in his breath. 

Marinette bit her lip hard in an attempt not to babble all the disclaimers, pushing that stupid piece of hair back again, and waited, tense. 

When he finally spoke, it was so softly she barely heard him. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, laying his long fingers on the page next to her sketch. “You got all of this just—just from the music?” He looked up at her and she swore for an instant there were stars in his eyes. “You’re amazing, Marinette. I don’t think...I don’t think anybody’s ever gotten my music like this except Juleka.” 

“Not just from the music,” she said, her own voice hushed to match his, unable to tear her eyes away when he looked at her like that. “From you, too. I mean we only talked today, but I’ve seen you around lots, so I took your style and...amplified it. Played it up.” She shrugged, cutting herself out before she could start babbling.

“You noticed me?” Luka blinked, and Marinette burst out laughing.

“Of course I did, you’re hard to miss.” 

“Right,” Luka looked embarrassed and turned his face away. “I—”

He was interrupted by a buzz and a voice from the emergency panel. “Okay, hang on folks, we think we fixed the problem. We’re bringing you to the ground floor now. It’ll be a bit slower than usual, but I assure you that’s entirely normal and you’re in no danger.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” Luka snorted softly. They shared a grin, and began gathering up their things. Luka stood up and offered her a hand. She accepted, letting him pull her to her feet. He politely looked away as she tugged down her skirt and settled it back into place. She gave him back his hoodie and slipped her little cropped jacket back on, stepping carefully back into her pumps. 

“It might not have been the greatest outfit for sitting on the floor,” Luka observed, darting her a shy smile as he put his coat back on and ducked under the strap of his guitar case. “But you look really cute in it.” 

Marinette giggled, blushing, and Luka chuckled through his nose, grinning at the floor. The elevator started moving with a gentle bump and slowly began to descend. Marinette grabbed Luka’s sleeve reflexively, and turned apologetic but pleading eyes up at him. He chuckled and removed her hand only to wrap his own around it and squeeze tightly. They stood there, each with their free hand gripping the rail as they held onto the elevator and each other for dear life. Neither of them let go until the elevator doors began to slide open. 

When they finally stepped off the elevator, Marinette hugged the maintenance tech waiting there impulsively. “Oh, thank you!”

“Er,” the elderly man said, patting her back awkwardly. “Happy to help, ma’am. You um...you’re okay?” Marinette straightened to see the man was looking over her shoulder at Luka suspiciously. 

“Oh, yes, Luka’s a perfect gentleman,” Marinette said, beaming back at her new friend. He blushed. She looked back at the maintenance tech and giggled. “Maybe a little shy, though.”

The tech chuckled, relaxing, and shook Luka’s hand amiably when Luka stepped forward to thank him for getting them out. 

Luka and Marinette drifted towards the lobby doors slowly, both clearly trying to think of something to say. 

“You know, I can still make it to practice before it ends,” Luka said, checking the time. “I was heading out early to work on some stuff, so the others will just be warming up now. Would you—I mean,” he shuffled his feet a little, “I’d love it if you could come with me. You could meet the rest of the band and show them your ideas. I’m still not sure we could afford you, but maybe we could work something out. I can’t imagine Ivan’s terribly attached to his kidney.”

Marinette giggled. “Well,” she sighed, checking the time herself. “My girls’ dinner is definitely cancelled, and I honestly have zero desire to get back in that elevator right now—or climb up eight floors in these,” she added, lifting one small foot and putting it back down with a click. “So...sure, why not?” 

“We can grab something to eat after,” Luka suggested. “Or on the way,” he amended with a grin when Marinette’s stomach growled. Marinette moaned and put her hand over her face, but then she peeked at him between her fingers and giggled. Honestly, it was kind of hard to be embarrassed in front of him after they’d been camped out on an elevator floor for two hours. He’d tried so hard to make sure she was comfortable, he’d been interested in her work, he had thoughtful and insightful things to say, and his music was amazing…and there was still so much she didn’t know about him, like the nautical tattoos or what his plans were for his music...

Her breath caught when she saw he was giving her that look again, like...like he really thought she was the greatest thing to ever walk the earth. 

It was...really nice to be looked at like that, she was finding. She could get used to it. 

“Dinner sounds good,” she said, probably a little later and definitely a little squeakier than she should have, and his smile made her knees weak.

They ended up grabbing crepes from a street vender just to take the edge off, because neither of them wanted Luka to be any later to practice than necessary. Eating quickly on the way to the metro, Marinette promptly tripped over an uneven place in the sidewalk, pitching forward with a gasp. Luka caught her arm and steadied her, and then offered his. Marinette slipped her hand through his elbow and they shared a smile. 

_ Don’t get ahead of yourself, Marinette, _ she told herself, trying to calm the flutters in her stomach with a deep breath. It didn’t matter; another soft look from him as they got on the train was enough to undo all her efforts. 

His practice space was only a short ride away, in a club that was only open on weekends. Luka explained that Rose knew the owner and he let them rent the space for weekday practices as long as they cleaned up after themselves. 

She hesitated at the door and Luka looked at her. “Everything okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” she tried to say brightly. “I’m fine, it’ll be fine.”

Luka turned away from the door to face her. “Why are you nervous?”

“It’s nothing,” Marinette said, embarrassed. “It’s just, I’m…” she gestured vaguely at herself. Luks just raised his eyebrows. “Boring,” she finished, shuffling awkwardly. “Compared to a metal band, I—I’m just not—“

She frowned when Luka turned away from her and covered his mouth, and Marinette blinked for a moment before she realized he was laughing at her. He cleared his throat and turned back to the door, pulling it open for her and gesturing her through. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” he said, not quite able to keep a straight face as he said it. 

Marinette pursed her lips and went inside, trying not to pout. 

“Hey guys,” Luka said, in answer to the chorus greeting him from the stage. He set his guitar case on a table and opened it. “Sorry I got held up. This is Marinette.” He offered his hand to Marinette and led her forward into the light from the stage. “Marinette, this is Rose—“

“Hi Marinette! Nice to meet you!”

“Ivan—“ 

“Hey.”

“And my sister, Juleka.”

Juleka smiled and gave a little wave. 

“Just have a seat anywhere you’re comfortable,” Luka smiled at her. “We’ll try to keep you entertained.” He gave her a wink and a grin and then headed for the stage. 

Juleka punched him lightly in the arm as he passed her, and he looked at her, and they seemed to have some kind of conversation without words. Luka snorted softly and shook his head, the lights on the stage clearly illuminating his blush, and Juleka smirked. 

Luka got into place and got his guitar settled and plugged in. It was hard to describe the way he changed as he mounted the stage. Even with the guitar strap over his shoulder, the slouch was gone, as was the perpetually sleepy look in his eyes. Then he looked up at her and gave her a grin that made her insides feel like jelly, made only worse when his quiet but strong voice said, “Let’s do this.” 

They were so much fun to watch, Marinette thought. They all had such distinct personalities, and they clearly loved what they were playing. Juleka moved with a fluid elegance that was entrancing to watch, while Rose was bursting with energy. Ivan looked big and slow but his drumsticks kept perfect time, and Marinette adjusted her mental image to a charging bull rather than a plodding steer. 

And Luka was—well she couldn’t look too long at Luka. His stage smirk, as she began to think of it, scattered her thoughts completely every time their eyes met. He was contained, poised like his sister, but all the little tricks she now realized he used to tone down his natural intensity were gone. His presence on stage was powerful and she found it...extremely appealing. To put it mildly. 

_ Sexy _ , Alya’s voice giggled in her mental ear, but Marinette crossed her legs primly and got out her sketchbook. She began making adjustments and additions to her designs, focusing on the other band members since she didn’t know them. She pondered each one of them thoughtfully, and by the time they came down off stage, she had several more pages filled with ideas.

Luka gathered the band around the table and asked Marinette to show them what she’d been working on. It wasn’t exactly the sort of pre-planned client presentation she was used to, but she did her best. Her nervousness quickly faded in the face of their enthusiasm. Her eyes flickered to Luka, who just smiled, not quite looking at her. “Told you,” he murmured. Marinette kind of wanted to pinch him.

“Don’t worry about it for now,” Marinette waved dismissively when the subject of payment came up. “As long as we can cover materials up front, I can cut you a deal on the commission price. We can work out a payment schedule or whatever. I have to be able to take a passion project now and then or I’ll go crazy.” Her eyes might have flickered shyly towards Luka when she said it. He hadn’t said much, but Marinette was aware the entire time of Luka’s eyes on her. Juleka was clearly aware of it too, and looked highly amused by the situation. Marinette blushed and Luka sighed whenever one or the other caught Juleka smirking at them.

“Might want to turn down the smoulder, bro,” Juleka leaned in and murmured to him at one point, just barely audible to Marinette. “You’re looking at her like she’s a new guitar you can’t wait to play.” 

“Jules, I love you, but I swear on Mom’s guitar I will murder you right here if you don’t  _ shut the hell up _ ,” he muttered back. 

Rose leaned in and loudly asked a long-winded question, kindly giving Marinette a chance to recover from her unintentional eavesdropping. 

“We’re heading out,” Luka announced finally, standing up and offering Marinette his hand. “We haven’t eaten and I think I owe Marinette dinner at the least for all of this.”

“Sure,” Juleka murmured, her voice even softer than her brother’s and laced with amusement. “That’s totally the reason.” 

“Well,” Luka said, looking down into Marinette’s face, “Maybe not the only reason.” Marinette blushed as Ivan oohed and Rose put two fingers in her mouth and whistled at them. Luka chuckled. “Bye guys.”

“Don’t screw it up,” Juleka said as he bent and kissed the top of her head. “I can’t take you moping for weeks.” 

“You two have a good tiiiiime,” Rose sing-songed as she waved goodbye. “Don’t stay out too late!” She whisper shouted, “Text us and let us know if you kiss!” She squealed and grabbed Juleka’s arm. “He likes her so much, it’s so cute!”

Ivan gave them two thumbs up. “Good luck, dude!”

Luka waved them off with a good-natured “Whatever,” and put his hand against Marinette’s lower back, guiding her to the door. 

“Sorry about them,” he said, with a one-shouldered shrug that said,  _ what can you do?  _

Marinette giggled. “They like giving you a hard time, don’t they?” 

“Well,” he sighed as he opened the door. “I can’t be too mad about it. It’s not like they’re wrong.” He grinned as he motioned for her to go ahead of him. 

Marinette did, her head held high, though she was biting her lip to contain her smile. Despite her embarrassment, she was enjoying the attention he paid her. 

They found a restaurant and grabbed a table near the back. She finally asked about his tattoos as they ate and Luka moved to the chair next to her, slipping off his hoodie and coat and even lifting the sleeve of his t-shirt so she could see better as he talked about them. He told her about growing up on a houseboat with his mother and the trips they would take together while she not-so-subtly admired the arm he was not-so-subtly flexing. She told him about her family and what it was like growing up with her parents trying to run the business.

“You were amazing on stage,” Marinette said eventually, and Luka, who had finished eating and was leaning on the table, darted that stage smirk at her. “Yes,” she exclaimed, pointing in his face and circling her finger to include all of it. “That. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Maybe,” Luka chuckled, with a wink that was far more devastating than it had been a few hours ago. “Every performer has to know how to work a crowd.” 

Marinette wrinkled her nose at him teasingly. “Well there’s no crowd here, so turn it off, it’s distracting.” 

“The size of the audience doesn’t matter,” he shrugged, absolutely not turning it off. “Just getting the effect that you want. Am I affecting you, Marinette?”

She hadn’t expected such a bold flirt, and it showed in her suddenly red face. Luka chuckled. “That looks a bit like a yes, Marinette.” Then he added, getting a bit pink himself, “You definitely affect me.”

“Who are you?” Marinette asked, narrowing her eyed at him, half playful and half serious. “The sexy rocker or the sweet boy who loaned me his hoodie on the elevator?”

Luka looked away for a moment, laughing through his nose, and then looked back at her. “Who are you?” he challenged. “The cute stammering girl wearing shoes she can’t walk in—“ He grinned as Marinette gasped in outrage, “Or the classy business lady selling a new client on her ideas like she’s been doing it since the day she was born?”

Marinette giggled, covering her face. “Okay, fair.”

They both needed a moment to breathe after that. Marinette busied herself with her food and Luka ordered a cup of peppermint tea.

“You know,” Marinette said, blushing as she picked at her fries. “This is starting to feel an awful lot like a date.”

Luka chuckled. “I don’t know about you but this is the best blind date I’ve ever been on, even taking into account the two hours stuck in the elevator.” He smiled at her. “But sometimes good things happen even when we’re not expecting them, and sometimes things that shouldn’t make sense just do. I’ve never met anyone like you, Marinette. And I’d be happy to consider this our first date if it means I can take you out on another one.”

Marinette froze for an instant, staring at him with her drink in one hand and the straw pinched between two fingers of the other. Was this really the guy who never spoke and stared at the floor every time they rode the elevator?

He wasn’t staring at the floor now. He was staring right at her, and Juleka was right, he  _ was _ intense. But...Marinette hadn’t been lying before. She liked it. She liked it a lot, actually. No one had ever looked at her like that before, like in that moment nobody else existed but her. 

Smiling, she said, “I think we can work something out,” and watched him watch her slide the straw between her lips. 

They lingered a little longer than necessary over the meal, with Luka sipping his tea while Marinette ordered a hot chocolate piled with whipped cream. Luka laughed at her when she got some on her nose and her eyes crossed trying to look at it. Marinette gave him the cold shoulder for five whole minutes, until he actually began to look worried that he’d really offended her. Then she winked at him over the rim of the cup with its much diminished pile of whipped cream, and the soft look came back. 

It was getting late, though, so they gathered their things and headed to the metro. They didn’t bother to sit, as they were only going a few stops, and stood together holding onto one of the poles and talking quietly. Eventually Marinette noticed some passengers looking in their direction, and she tugged on Luka’s sleeve. He bent down slightly.

“Do I look okay?” Marinette whispered to him. “I feel like people are staring. Did I spill something on myself?”

“You’re fine,” Luka chuckled. “I think it’s because they’re not used to seeing a sweet lady like you with a punk rock guy like me. Probably thinking you belong with someone like him.” He straightened and nodded at an advertisement on the subway wall, where a very familiar blonde man dressed in a business suit was looking over his shoulder at the camera.

Marinette began to laugh, and Luka raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to explain. “I actually know him and he’s engaged,” Marinette giggled. “He’s marrying a friend of mine. I’m supposed to be a bridesmaid in their wedding next year. And believe me, people who don’t know better would say they don’t match at all either.” Marinette sighed as the laughter faded, though her smile remained. “Well,” she said, sliding her hand down his arm to slot her fingers between his and leaning into his side as she turned her nose up at the gapers, “The other girls like me don’t know what they’re missing.” 

Luka gave her the soft look, and maybe it wasn’t as sexy as the stage smirk but it was awfully cute and a lot less intimidating. His fingers closed tightly around hers and he leaned into her too. “All the guys like me wish they could be so lucky.” 

They held hands all the way back to the apartment building. 

“Well,” Luka said with some amusement as they approached the elevator doors. “Here we are. Do we take the chance or use the stairs?”

Marinette sighed, shifting on her already tired feet. “I suppose...it didn’t end too badly last time, right?” She smiled up at him. “I can think of worse things than being stuck in an elevator with you.” 

“So can I,” Luka chuckled. “And several of them involve plunging to the bottom of the elevator shaft instead of just jolting to a halt and having to catch a pretty girl.” 

“So...you’d rather take the stairs?” Marinette asked, trying to keep her tone neutral. 

Luka sighed heavily, and then his gaze flickered to her shoes and he squeezed her hand. “No. We’re just going to have to have faith that the universe didn’t set us up on the most bizarre blind date ever just to let us die at the end of it.” He grinned, and Marinette giggled. 

The elevator doors opened (not to the same elevator, and Marinette wasn’t sure whether an elevator that presumably hadn’t been stuck today was better or worse than the one that had been stuck but that they knew for a fact maintenance had recently serviced). She and Luka shared a look, and then stepped onto the elevator together, hands still clasped tightly. 

“Is it okay if I walk you to your floor?” Luka asked, his hand hovering over the panel. 

Marinette nodded. “I’m on eight.” 

Luka pushed the button, and they both let out a breath as the elevator began to move. Marinette was more anxious than she had expected, and found herself pressing against Luka’s side. Luka let go of her hand and put his arm around her waist, squeezing lightly. His other hand gripped the elevator rail tightly. 

Despite their nervousness, the elevator ascended smoothly to the eighth floor. They both breathed a sigh of relief and laughed at themselves as they got off the elevator. 

“Whew,” Luka said, taking her hand again and pulling her off to the side. “We made it.” He ducked out of the strap of his guitar case and set it against the wall.

“We did,” Marinette giggled, as he caught her other hand, so that both of hers now rested in his.

“Well, it wasn’t the most conventional first date,” Luka admitted, tugging lightly to bring her close. “But...I’m really glad I met you, Marinette. And I’d really like to take you on a second date sometime soon. Maybe one involving less time spent in elevators and more comfortable shoes.” 

“Hey!” Marinette pouted as he laughed, tightening his grip when she pretended to pull away, drawing her even nearer.

“I know technically we just met,” Luka said, smiling down at her, “And I’m not trying to pressure you, but...I’ve been dying to kiss you for hours now. Can I?” 

Marinette only hesitated a moment before nodding, because the truth was she’d been wanting him to kiss her since he’d stepped on the stage. 

Luka held her eyes as he leaned in until they got close, only closing them a breath before he pressed his mouth to hers, slow and soft and so warm. He let go of her hands and brought his own to cup her face, and then slid them back into her hair to tilt her back as the kiss deepened. He tasted like peppermint tea and some giddy part of her brain wondered if he’d drunk it on purpose because he’d already been planning to kiss the hell out of her. She slid her hands up over his shoulders to wind her arms around his neck and pressed into him, and he moaned softly into the kiss.

She had an epiphany right about then, but it wasn’t about the mint tea or how he was a great kisser. It was a bunch of little things that came together for her in a sudden flash of intuition, confirmed and affirmed in the way he kissed her like he needed her more than air, the way his eyes stayed closed for a moment when they parted, the stars in those eyes when he opened them and looked at her, his thumbs brushing along her jaw as he leaned back in for just one more, light and soft and reverent, before dropping his hands to her waist and resting his forehead against hers. He was soft and sentimental, an artist and a believer in the romance of taking chances when they come along. He was gentle and kind and considerate, he  _ saw _ people, he felt deeply and passionately and he believed that love didn’t always have to make sense.

He was someone like her. 

She was sure there were stars in her own eyes as she looked back at him. 

Someone behind her cleared her throat and Marinette jumped, turning quickly. “Mrs. Allium!” she gasped at the sight of the purple-haired lady currently waiting for the elevator. “I mean—”

“Good evening, Mrs. Allen,” Luka cut in smoothly from behind her. “Is your grandson feeling better?”

Mrs. Allen beamed at him. “He is, thank you for asking, my dear. How is your mother?”

“She’s well,” Luka smiled. “I saw her a couple of days ago and she’s doing great. Planning another trip in the spring.” 

“That’s good. And it’s good to see you finally made your move, my boy,” Mrs. Allen winked and nodded significantly at Marinette, who was looking back and forth between them with her mouth half-open. “I told you a girl like that wouldn’t stay single forever.” 

Luka blushed—not the faint tint of color she had seen on him up until now, but a true, deep blush. “Yes, ma’am. Well, it was sort of—ah...” He shuffled his feet and his shoulders hunched slightly, and Mrs. Allen laughed. 

“Mm-hmm, I saw what it was,” she said loftily, winking at Marinette, whose face rapidly darkened to match Luka’s. “No need to be embarrassed with me, but if I were you I’d take it behind closed doors before that nosy biddy in 804B pokes her beak out of the door, or it’ll be all over the building by morning. Good night, dears!”

“Good night, ma’am,” Luka said, and Marinette managed an inarticulate noise and a wave. When Mrs. Allen was gone, she looked up at Luka questioningly.

“What?” he shrugged. “You’re not the only one I run into in the elevator.” He reached for her hand, hesitantly this time. “You’re just the only one I never got the courage to talk to. I mean, a girl like you...with that smile and those eyes…” Luka hooked one finger under her chin to tilt her face up. “I didn’t have a chance. I just couldn’t look at you and put more than three words together at a time. Which Mrs. Allen noticed immediately, by the way, the one time all three of us were in the elevator together.” He moved his hand to slide that stubborn lock of hair behind her ear one more time. “I got quite an earful on it the next time I rode with just her.” 

Marinette giggled. “And what did you say?” 

“I said, a girl like that wouldn’t want to be seen with a guy like me,” Luka replied, and then grinned. “And then she whacked me in the gut with her purse and told me I was being an idiot.” He chuckled. “I guess she was right.” 

Marinette just shook her head and slipped her arms around his neck, pulling him down so that she could kiss him full on the mouth. He melted into her with a noise she fully intended to tease him about later as his arms wrapped around her automatically. “I think,” Marinette murmured against his lips, “If we’ve learned anything tonight, it’s that we’re not as different as we thought.” Instead of answering, he kissed her again. 

They heard a gasp and the slam of a nearby door, and Luka chuckled. “There goes the gossip chain,” he smiled ruefully. “What did Mrs. Allen say? All over the building by morning?”

“Good,” Marinette sniffed, and kissed him again. 


	5. Stuck on You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one comes from Fern 
> 
> _Soulmate’s AU where one can hear in their heads the song the other one is thinking about? Imagine Marinette’s headache when Luka gets stuck on a creative loop (and she doesn’t even recognize the song but it’s good damn it)_
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Marinette smiled to herself as the music in her head began again. It often started this time of day. It must be a boring time for her soulmate too, she thought as she doodled flowers in the margin of her notebook. At least he could get away with playing music. Maybe he had study hall or something and he could wear headphones. 

She, unfortunately, had history, and while it could be interesting sometimes, it often wasn’t. Her notebook was as full of tiny sketches in the margin as it was notes. Really, she was grateful for the soundtrack her soulmate provided, since she wasn’t allowed to listen to music in class. 

Marinette sighed wistfully. Of course, everybody hated the waiting. Well. Almost everybody. Aside from  _ some _ chronically optimistic people who insisted that the anticipation was part of the “fun” and heightened the experience of meeting their soulmate at last (never mind that the people in question met their soulmates criminally early). Marinette knew that the waiting was something that everybody had to endure, so she tried not to think about it too hard, even as her curious mind went over the few things she knew about her soulmate. Which...wasn’t much, unfortunately.

His taste was eclectic. He preferred rock music but he listened to a little bit of everything. He really liked guitar music, that much was obvious. Sometimes the songs in his head that echoed through hers were nothing but guitar, electric or acoustic. She wondered if he played, and thus remembered the guitar parts of the songs he knew better than the rest of it. Unfortunately, she seemed to have a hard time recognizing the melodies without the other instruments, so it was a little frustrating. He probably didn’t know it, but he was the one who had first introduced her to Jagged Stone’s music, years ago, and Marinette was now a huge fan. She’d love to check out some of the other things he liked, but her attempts to find any of it were rarely successful.

Someday, when they met, Marinette hoped he would share all of it with her, because even with just the guitar part, she really liked what she heard most days.

She doodled another flower in her notebook and sighed again.

* * *

It had been four days of that awful XY song and Luka was about ready to lose his mind. He’d thought his soulmate, whoever she was, had pretty good taste in music until now, but...ugh. Luka tried not to judge, he liked a lot of things himself and he’d never want to be considered a music snob, but...XY? Really? The man’s music had no heart. It was bad enough hearing his latest single constantly on the radio, but to have it haunting Luka’s mind all the time was torture.

Luka put his head down on his desk and groaned. Enough was enough. He thought for a minute, and then focused on one of his soulmate’s favorite (he assumed, based on how often she was thinking about it) Jagged Stone songs, and began playing it mentally at full volume, fingers tapping absently to the rhythm as he tried to overwhelm that awful song. Hopefully whoever it was would forgive him for this but he just couldn’t listen any longer.

The XY song warped and twisted in a way that made him wince, but Luka was nothing if not focused. He visualized turning up the volume knob on his mental stereo, his left hand beginning to mimic the fingering for the guitar piece even as his right continued to drum. Eventually the warped tune began to follow his beat, and slowly the melody shifted as well, and there was almost an audible snap when they were back in sync again, the familiar Jagged Stone song playing without resistance.

Luka’s shoulders slumped in relief and he sighed, just listening to the song. 

Then he gasped as he felt a sudden rush of relief and gratitude that definitely did not come from him. Luka sat frozen, his head still on the desk. Then a smile gradually grew on his face. “Ear worm, huh?” he murmured. “I knew you had better taste.” He closed his eyes and concentrated on the song again, falling into the flow of it. Then he tried to send his feelings back to her. 

He didn’t know if it worked. He hadn’t even known it was possible to sense anything besides the music. Luka wondered if it was just him; he had a rather unique and intense relationship to music and the emotions it carried. Maybe that, plus being so intensely focused on the bond at that moment, was what allowed those feelings to come through. 

It didn’t matter; that awful song was gone, and now that he knew his soulmate didn’t like it either, he’d be quicker to intervene if it came back. 

* * *

“It’s gone!” Marinette cried, elated.

Alya looked at her with a raised eyebrow. 

“That stupid song Chloé kept playing!” Marinette grabbed Alya’s arm. “It’s been in my head for days and I couldn’t get rid of it. My poor soulmate must have gotten as sick of it as I was and somehow he made it go away!”

“Does that mean you’re finally going to stop humming it? Because if so then I owe that boy a coffee when you finally meet,” Alya said dryly. “And Nino might actually put him up for sainthood.”

Marinette just sat back in her chair and sighed, relieved and happy and very grateful. 

She stiffened as she felt a wave of amusement and affection wash over her. It was a little overwhelming but also calm, steady. Comforting. Marinette sighed wistfully. She hoped it was a sign they would meet soon.

* * *

Luka growled and set down his guitar. He’d been so inspired once he’d helped his soulmate finally get rid of that awful song, but now he was stuck. Nothing felt right. He went up on deck and leaned against the rail, folding his arms and dropping his chin onto them. The cool breeze raised goosebumps on his bare arms and he realized he’d left his hoodie downstairs. He dropped his head on his arms and groaned. 

He stayed at the rail out of sheer stubbornness a little longer, playing the melody over and over in his mind and trying to figure out where he was going wrong. Maybe if he...no, that didn’t work. He turned the pick still in his fingers absently as he considered the possibilities, but nothing spoke to him.

Luka groaned and chucked his guitar pick into the river in frustration. Or rather, he tried, the wind blew it right back onto the deck and he rolled his eyes. “Well that about sums it up my day,” Luka observed wryly, leaning down to pick it up and shove it back in his pocket.

He went back down and sat back on his bed, picking up his guitar.

“If you play that damn song again,” Juleka warned without looking up from her homework, “I’ll snap the neck off your guitar and stab you with it.” 

Luka threw himself back on his bed and pouted.

* * *

Marinette was starting to wonder if something was wrong with her soulmate. He’d had the same song stuck in his head for a long time now. It was a nice song, she liked it, but...it always stopped around the same place, and it never felt finished. It was a consistent melody up to a point, and then it would vary before it either stuttered to a halt or...shattered, she supposed was the best word. 

Marinette wondered if maybe her soulmate had heard the song in passing, but either hadn’t heard all of it, or hadn’t remembered how it ended. Unfortunately she didn’t know it either, so she couldn’t finish it for him. It must be frustrating for him since he kept dwelling on it. 

Frowning, Marinette settled herself more solidly in her chair. Maybe she could help him the way he helped her. She paused to think of a song, and then concentrated, trying to play it over the song she was hearing. 

It was harder than she expected; her mind wanted to follow the tune in her head and even finding the right melody for the song she  _ wanted  _ was hard. She didn’t make it very far before she lost it completely.

To her surprise, despite her failure, the song shifted immediately. When he’d done this for her it had taken some time and effort to replace the old song with the new one, the two competing at first before his overwhelmed hers, but when she tried, the old song yielded easily, even though she hadn’t managed to hold the right melody in her mind. Just like before, she felt a wave of feeling. This time, though, it was more like...remorse. An apology? 

Oh, no, she hadn’t meant him to think that. She just wanted to help, but if this was something he  _ wanted  _ to be thinking about, she hadn’t meant to stop him.

She wasn’t conscious of doing anything, but she must have, because the next thing she felt was gratitude and forgiveness, tinged with amusement. The song gently shifted back to the first tune. 

More perplexed than ever, Marinette just shrugged and sighed and went back to her sewing, grumbling at yet another mystery that wouldn’t be solved until  _ someday _ finally got here.

* * *

“Ugh, I’m so not ready for this test,” Alya moaned, slumping onto the library table. Mylène patted her back sympathetically. 

“That’s why we decided to meet up,” she reminded Alya. “At least we can all get slightly less unprepared together.”

“Actually...” Marinette pulled out her notebook. “Look, I’ve divided up the material. If we each take a section to review, we can cover everything on the test and then make copies of everything so we all have the notes to study from!”

Rose squealed. “That’s brilliant Marinette!”

Marinette grinned, shoulders hunching slightly as the other girls joined in the praise. “Okay, great, if you all agree, then who wants to take which section? She put her color-coded outline on the table and the girls leaned over it. It only took a few minutes to get the assignments settled, and then they all got to work. 

Marinette was so focused on what she was doing that she jumped when Juleka spoke suddenly. 

“Where did you hear that?” Juleka asked sharply.

Four heads lifted and stared at the normally quiet girl, whose eyes were fixed on Marinette. Marinette blinked as three heads swiveled to move their gaze from Juleka to her. “Sorry?” she said.

“That tune you were humming, where did you hear it?”

“Oh, was I humming?” Marinette straightened in surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“Never mind that,” Juleka nearly snapped. “Where did you hear it?” 

Marinette tilted her head. “I didn’t, actually.” She tapped her temple with her pencil. “My soulmate’s had it in his head for a while now and I guess he’s thinking about it again now. I didn’t even realize I was humming along. Do you recognize it? It keeps cutting off, and I’d love to be able to hear the end. Maybe if I could hear the end and—uh...think it for him? Maybe he’d finally get it out of his head. It must be driving him crazy.”

“It is,” Juleka mumbled, and everyone’s heads whipped back around so they could all stare at her again. “You need to come home with me when we’re finished here.”

“Oh...kay,” Marinette agreed, exchanging a look with Alya, and then with Rose, who just shrugged. Apparently she didn’t know what Juleka was talking about either. Juleka just went back to her work without any further explanation. After a moment, Marinette sighed and did the same.

* * *

Luka was in a mood again, sitting in a deck chair and still trying to work on this song. He’d actually thought he’d made a breakthrough a few days ago, and he did make some progress, but only a little. He was starting to wonder if maybe he should just give it up, but the song just wouldn’t leave him alone. 

It was weird. He didn’t usually have this much trouble when composing. If something didn’t work, he let it go and worked on something else. He wasn’t sure why he was so set on figuring this one out. It was like...like he’d heard it somewhere, in a dream or something, so he  _ knew _ somewhere deep down what it was supposed to sound like, but he just couldn’t find the notes to make it work. 

He let his head fall back and closed his eyes, trying to just feel the sun on his face and the wind in his hair and the rock of the ship, but he wasn’t having much luck.

After a moment his lips quirked in a wry grin. Apparently his soulmate had his song on the brain now too, because he was still hearing it even as he tried not to think about it. 

“Hey dumbass.”

“Juleka,” he sighed, not opening his eyes. “What’s up?”

“That new song you’ve been writing. Play it.” 

“It’s not finished,” he grumbled. “I’m still stuck.”

“Don’t care. Play it now.” 

Luka sighed, shifting the guitar in his hands. “Fine,” he muttered. Apparently the whole damn world was against him at this point, he might as well give in and play the stupid song one more time. He sat up and got comfortable and played that damn, frustrating, unfinishable song. 

As the song trailed off at the same place that it always did, he heard a gasp behind him that definitely wasn’t Juleka. He craned his neck back over the chair, frowning. There was a girl standing next to Juleka with her hands over her mouth. “Oh, sorry,” he said, standing up and sliding his guitar to his back. “I didn’t realize we had company, I didn’t mean to be rude.” 

He offered his hand to the girl, expecting Juleka to introduce him. When she didn’t, he added, “I’m Luka, I’m Juleka’s brother. Welcome to the _ Liberty _ .” 

She still stared at him, without moving. “You...write music?” she asked, and Luka pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair awkwardly. 

“I try,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Not having much luck with this one, honestly.” 

“That’s why I never recognized your music,” she breathed. “You were writing it yourself. I’m such an idiot, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that, of course you’re a musician…”

Now Luka was the one staring, or rather they were staring at each other. He was barely aware of Juleka turning and walking away without a word. The new girl’s words jumbled up in his mind and he couldn’t quite make them make sense—or rather, he was so afraid of being wrong that he didn’t want to admit what they meant.

But the longer he stood and stared into her eyes, the more certain he was, and he suddenly realized where this frustrating, insistent song had come from. 

“Oh,” he said softly. “It’s you.” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I guess...it’s me. Um, I’m Marinette. By the way. That’s my, you know...name.” She held her hand out awkwardly. 

Luka took her hand, stepping nearer, but forgot to shake it as he gazed at her, his smile slowly growing. Marinette began to blush. 

“What?” Marinette asked finally, hunching her shoulders slightly. 

“I got it,” he said quietly, still smiling as he looked at her. “I know what I was missing now.” 

Marinette blinked in confusion. Luka took another step toward her, and Marinette jolted slightly as he let go of her hand and brought both of his up to curl them behind her neck, resting his forehead against hers. Marinette closed her eyes automatically, and it was only a moment before she heard that familiar beautiful but frustrating song...only this time, it didn’t cut off. 

She smiled delightedly, eyes still closed. “You finished it.”

He gave an affirmative hum. “I finally found what I was looking for.”

“It’s beautiful,” she sighed, bringing her hands up to rest on his wrists. 

“It’s you,” he breathed, pulling back slightly and opening his eyes to look into hers, hands sliding up to frame her face, caressing her cheeks lightly with his thumbs. “You’re right. It is beautiful.” 

For a long moment they just looked at each other, and then Luka’s eyes flicked down to her lips. He started to lean in, and then hesitated, glancing back up at her. Then he closed the distance and kissed her softly. Marinette closed her eyes, and as he pulled back suddenly there was a new song in her head, and it both made her blush and made her burst out laughing. 

“Are you ever  _ not  _ thinking about music?” Marinette giggled, and had the satisfaction of seeing  _ Luka _ blush. “Really, at a time like this?” 

Luka shrugged, dropping his hands from her face to wrap them around hers. “What can I say? You’re inspiring.” He smiled at her. 

“Are you idiots done yet?” Juleka yelled from somewhere out of sight. “Because you’re totally buying me dinner.”

Marinette giggled, and Luka hung his head with a sigh. “At least you already know her so I don’t have to figure out a way to explain her,” he chuckled. “Well, can I take you and apparently my annoying sister out to dinner tonight, Marinette?” 

Marinette smiled. “I think that sounds like a good start.” 

“A start,” Luka’s smile grew into a grin. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Marinette warned, laughter bubbling up as another melody began to form in her mind. 

“Get used to it,” Luka chuckled. “I think it’s going to be happening a lot from now on.” 


	6. Motorcycle Fairy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luka loves his job at the motorcycle shop, but he never expected to meet someone like her in a place like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually started when I was thinking about the Lukanette month prompts before I got into writing Something Just Like This; the original prompt was "Mine." I wrote the first little bit and posted it on tumblr, planning to continue it and post the whole thing here when it was done, and then SJLT happened so I didn't work on it for over a month, and then I came back to finish this one off and...now it's even longer than the elevator fic. So uh, get comfortable.

Luka had worked a lot of jobs since he was sixteen, but he had to admit working in the motorcycle shop was one of his favorites. He got to see all the merchandise as it came in, he got to see and occasionally touch bikes he would never be able to afford, and the owner was fairer than most of his employers. 

Really, there was only one downside, and it was standing at his elbow right now bitching him out. Lula ignored him, continuing his inventory check. 

“You’re only here because the old man knows your mom,” sniped Jean.

Luka raised his eyebrows, but didn’t look up from his clipboard. “You’re only here because he’s your dad,” he observed dryly. 

“Kiss my ass, Couffaine.”

“Michel doesn’t pay me near enough for that.”

The bell at the door chimed as someone came in. 

“I got this one,” Jean said quickly, taking a step towards the door before Luka had even had a chance to turn around. Jean didn’t make it more than that first step before he jerked back from the hold on his collar. 

“Oh no you don’t,” growled Michel, the owner, his bushy eyebrows making an angry V over his nose.

Jean scowled. “Aw, come on, Dad, I took the class, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to not turn into a walking sexual harassment complaint every time a woman walks into this store,” Michel grunted. “That’s not even a woman, it’s an underage girl, and I am not going to subject her to  _ you _ until you can prove to me you took that training seriously. Couffaine, she’s yours. Don’t talk down to her, understand? That’s a potential lifetime customer right there and you better not lose her.”

“Yeah,” Luka said with a half-smile to himself at his boss’s rather practical approach to equality. “Got it.” 

“She probably won’t even buy anything,” Jean grumbled. “No way a girl like  _ that _ knows anything about bikes.”

Luka ignored the lecture he knew Michel was about to deliver on the issue and walked to the front. He had to hunt about a little bit, the girl wasn’t very tall and she’d disappeared in the racks of gear before he got a good look at her. 

He found her at a display of women’s helmets, standing on her tiptoes to look at a particular model. Jean kind of had a point; everything about her screamed sweetness and light, and nothing said  _ biker _ .

Then again Luka’s sister was every inch the sophisticated model, yet she carried a switchblade that she absolutely knew how to use, so Luka knew better than to judge.

“Something I can help you with?” Luka asked, and the girl yelled and jumped away, flailing. Luka had to act fast to grab a rack of gloves that she nearly knocked over. “Sorry,” he said, straightening the rack. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

The boss was right, she looked a couple of years younger than Luka at least, which would make her seventeen or eighteen at most. Maybe younger, she had one of those faces where it was hard to tell. She was cute, with a light dusting of freckles across her nose, sweet blue eyes, and a growing blush as she stared at him.

“I’m sorry! I’m so clumsy!” she gasped, shrinking a little.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luka said with an easy smile. “I’m sorry for scaring you. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for or would you just like to browse in peace?”

“Oh!” she said, straightening and pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket. “Umm, I need a helmet. This one, please. Preferably flat black if you have it. It said on the internet that you carry this brand, so, um…” She held out the note for him shyly and he couldn’t help thinking again that she was awfully cute. 

Luka smiled almost involuntarily as he took the note and unfolded it. It had the brand name, model, and even the size on it. “Cool, with this, I can go grab it off the shelf in the back no problem.” He looked up at her, smile growing at her excited face. “You can keep looking around if you want or just meet me at the counter. I’ll be right back.” 

Luka went to the stock shelves in the back, unsurprised when Michel popped up next to him. “I don’t think it’s for her,” Luka told him absently as he ran a finger down the row of boxes. “But if she knows someone who rides, maybe she’ll get interested in learning.”

“Hmm,” was all Michel said. He didn’t follow as Luka picked up the right box and walked back out front. She wasn’t standing at the counter. Luka set the box down and turned to look around.

“Miss?” Luka called. There was a yelp and a crash from behind one of the racks. Luka sighed and went in the direction of the noise. He found Marinette on the floor surrounded by boxes of road flares that had been artistically stacked a few minutes ago. 

“I’m sorry again,” Luka chuckled, reaching down a hand. “I didn’t think I was that scary,” he teased, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, you’re not scary at all, you’re really nice-looking—I mean, you look nice!!” she sputtered as he grinned. “I’m just naturally jumpy,” she sighed as he helped her get to her feet. “And clumsy. My name’s Marinette by the way.” She looked at the boxes on the ground. “I’m so sorry,” she moaned, putting her hands on her head. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Luka reassured her, squeezing her shoulder. She looked up at him and he smiled kindly. “Happens all the time. I’ll clean it up after we get you checked out. Did you need anything besides the helmet?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Marinette said, tapping a finger to her lower lip thoughtfully. Luka had to look away. “No, that’s it,” she said more certainly. “For now, at least.”

Luka motioned her to go ahead of him, and then riveted his eyes to the ceiling when he caught himself checking her out as she passed him. She might be cute and maybe definitely kind of hot but Michel sent him to be professional. He was sure Jean was watching somewhere and the last thing he needed was to give the guy more ammo to resent him. 

Luka followed Marinette to the counter and put it between them, sliding over to the register. 

“May I take a look at it?” Marinette asked. 

“Of course.” He opened the box for her and let her turn the helmet in her hands. She ran her fingers over the outside thoughtfully, but didn’t try to put it on. 

Luka leaned on the counter admiring her concentrating face. “Is this for you or are you picking it up for someone else?” Luka asked. 

“Oh, it’s for my grandmother,” she said brightly, reaching into her purse. She held out a picture of a badass-looking grey-haired woman leaning against a red Misurati. Luka took it, looking closer. A rather younger Marinette, her hair in pigtails, was standing on her tiptoes grinning hugely over the bike’s saddle. 

“Rad,” Luka grinned, returning the picture. “She looks like a cool person.”

“She’s super cool!” Marinette exclaimed brightly. “She’s always going on all these adventures. Last time she went…” Luka leaned his elbows on the counter as she went on. She was more than cute, animated and effervescent and completely captivating as she told him about her grandmother’s travels. The amount of love and pride pouring out from her as she spoke touched him. 

“You must be really close,” Luka observed when she paused for breath.

“Oh, well we—I mean she’s gone so often—but when she’s here—and I mean my grandfather never really—you know what, it’s complicated, and I’ve taken up enough of your time, I can’t believe you even listened to me ramble on, I’m so sorry—“

“Please don’t apologize,” Luka smiled, setting the bag with her purchase on the counter. “I really didn’t mind. I’m sorry if what I said upset you. I just meant that I can see you love your grandmother very much.”

“I really do,” Marinette smiled. “She’s coming through town soon on her way to the races in Le Mans. I’m hoping I can get this painted by then.”

Luka raised his eyebrows slightly. “You’re going to get a custom paint job?”

“Yes!” Marinette said, and then hastily. “I mean no. I’m going to do it myself. I already designed the art for it!” She pulled a book out of her bag and flipped through it before showing him a page with a mock up of the helmet she had purchased. The design on the side featured a fairy sending a beam of light from her wand through a prism which fractured the light into a rainbow. Flowers curled artfully around the main design.

“Wow,” was all Luka could say. 

“She calls me her little fairy,” Marinette said, touching the fairy silhouette. “I hope she likes it.”

“I’m sure she will,” Luka looked up from the sketch and smiled. “It looks like it’ll be really special.”

Marinette seemed to glow under his praise, as if he was a friend instead of a random stranger. He kind of wished he was. She seemed like a really cool person. For a moment neither of them said anything. A noise from the back brought Luka back to Earth.

“Well, good luck with your gift,” he said. “And I hope you’ll come back if you need anything else. I really wish I could see the finished piece, it sounds awesome.”

“Oh,” Marinette straightened slightly. “Well...I mean if you’re really interested, I could give you my Instagram? That’s where I usually post things I’ve designed.”

“I’d love that,” Luka smiled, grabbing a post-it pad and a pen from beside the register and sliding it over to her. “I’m sure my boss would like to see it, too.” 

Marinette beamed at him and his breath caught for a moment. 

“See what?” 

Luka jumped slightly as Michel loomed over him. “Ah, Marinette here is an artist. She’s planning to do a design on a helmet for her grandmother.”

“I see. Is Luka helping you get what you need?” the big man said gruffly, clearly (to Luka at least) trying to appear as non threatening as possible.

Marinette’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t look at all afraid of the big tattooed shop owner as she turned that blinding smile up again. “Oh, yes, he’s been very helpful, and here I’ve been taking up his time. Thank you so much Luka!”

“My pleasure,” Luka smiled back, handing her the bag. “See you next time.” He watched her until she was out of the door, and wasn’t even aware of his wistful sigh until Michel’s thick hand landed on his shoulder. “Good job, Luka. Not sure if she’ll be back but good customer service is never wasted, especially if she has relatives that ride. If she does come back, she’s yours.” 

“Thanks,” Luka said, hiding his smile by looking down at the post-it. He folded it and tucked it in his pocket. “I better go clean up that stuff she knocked down.” 

Michel grunted agreement, and Luka got back to work, humming a new melody as he thought about sky blue eyes and a sunshine smile. He ignored Jean’s disgruntled looks easily. 

The next time he had an idle moment, Luka leaned on the counter and pulled the post-it out of his pocket and pulled up Marinette’s Instagram. The profile picture was just a logo with a curly monogrammed M, but Marinette was in the first picture, smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower in a striped top and red beret. “Cute. Very French,” Luka commented to himself, and glanced around quickly to make sure he still wasn’t needed. “Wow,” Luka murmured to himself, flicking through the pictures. “These are cool.” He straightened suddenly. “Holy shit, is that Jagged Stone?” He stared at the picture of the rock star with his arm slung around Marinette’s shoulders, pulling a pair of tricolor Eiffel Tower sunglasses down his nose to wink at the camera. Marinette had a silly-looking, but still adorable, grin as she held up two fingers in a V. The caption said she’d designed the sunglasses for the rocker, and Jagged Stone himself (or at least whoever ran his Instagram account) had commented to endorse her. “Wow.” Luka sighed, leaning back on the counter again. “She’s amazing.” Beautiful and sweet  _ and  _ creative...like, crazy talented, wow. He glanced at the door forlornly and sighed. He hoped he got the chance to see her again.

* * *

It was a really nice day, Luka reflected as he sat on the bench outside of the shop, playing his guitar. The remains of his lunch sat beside him. He let his eyes fall closed, lost in the music, enjoying the breeze that ruffled his hair. 

“Luka!”

Luka jumped slightly, the song cutting off inelegantly. He looked up and saw Marinette standing there with her hands over her mouth and an expression of horror. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “I just—we were listening and it was so pretty, and then I saw your face and I was surprised—I didn’t mean to interrupt you!”

“Marinette!” Luka jumped to his feet and shrugged out of the strap of his guitar. “Hey, how’ve you been? Oh, uh, don’t worry about it, I’m just on my break and I was just messing around, you really didn’t interrupt anything.”

She relaxed a little, her shoulders coming down from her ears and her hands coming down from her mouth, and his attention was much too focused on that mouth when she spoke again. “It sounded great, though, what you were playing.”

“Well...thanks,” he grinned, moving his gaze quickly back up to her eyes. “Glad to see you back. I saw the helmet on your Instagram, by the way, it looked sick.”

“I’m surprised you remember me,” Marinette hunched her shoulders slightly again. She had on shorts today, pink with a white flowy top, and her hair done in pigtails, like in the picture she’d shown him, only longer. 

“Of course, your art was really fantastic,” Luka said, not even really knowing what he was saying. “I really wanted to see the finished picture so I’ve been following your Instagram, and you had a lot of cool stuff on there, so...yeah, I remembered.” God, just kill him. 

“Ah, yes, my little Marinetta is so talented,” said the older woman standing beside her, putting her hands on Marinette’s shoulders and squeezing. “The new helmet was a lovely surprise.” 

Marinette beamed up at her. “Luka, this is my grandmother Gina Dupain. Grandma, this is Luka, he’s the one who helped me out last time.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mme Dupain,” Luka offered his hand.

“Call me Gina,” the grey haired woman smiled, shaking it. “Well, we won’t disturb your break, my dear, we just came to do a little shopping. I am taking my little Marinetta to Le Mans with me.” Gina put her arm around Marinette’s shoulders and smiled at her affectionately. “We need to get her some equipment so that my fairy will be safe and comfortable for the ride.”

“I’m actually just about due back, so let me clean up here and I’ll meet you inside.” Luka smiled at Marinette, trying to pretend his heart wasn’t trying its best to escape his chest. “We’ll get you all set.” 

The ladies went inside and Luka scrambled to clean up the rest of his lunch quickly. He zipped up his guitar, reminding himself to breathe. He was at work and there was no way he was going to let the butterflies in his stomach keep him from doing his job. He rubbed his hands on his jeans, blowing out a slightly frustrated breath. Sure she was cute and sweet and talented and he’d maybe been nursing a small (maybe not so small anymore) crush since she came in the first time and maybe he’d daydreamed once or twice about what he’d do or say if she ever came in again, but this was his  _ job _ and this was real life and Michel trusted him to not screw this up, so he was going to go in there and at least  _ pretend _ that he had himself together. 

She was the same girl who had knocked over his displays and chattered nervously the last time she was here. Before he knew that in addition to being cute and sweet, she was a video game champion, a creative genius who rubbed elbows with rock stars, and a savvy marketer for her fashion business. On top of that she still made time to decorate cookies with her dad, promote her friends’ accomplishments, and plant trees for community projects.

Not that he’d been stalking her social media or anything. He just...followed her. And noticed when she put up new things. She was just so interesting and her projects were amazing...

Luka shook his head at himself and picked up his guitar.  _ Okay. I can get through this without sounding like a stalker or a perv _ .

Michel was already talking to Gina when Luka made it inside. “—and my Marinetta says your boy was so kind to help her last time,” Gina was saying. “And that you had a bigger stock of materials for women than the other shops she visited.”

“Yes ma’am,” Michel nodded with grave politeness. “It’s certainly our goal to make sure we have everything our customers need—all our customers.”

“I will have to let my club know about this place,” Gina remarked. 

“And with those words, your grandma just won Michel’s heart forever,” Luka leaned over Marinette’s shoulder to murmur. She giggled, and he grinned. “I’ll be right back, just let me drop my guitar in the back.” 

“Take your time,” she said, reaching up to pat his shoulder. “We’re not in a hurry.” 

Luka blushed all the way to the back, and felt like a fool for it. Thankfully Jean was nowhere in sight. Luka suspected Michel had sent him on break as soon as the women walked in. He stashed his guitar and practically jogged back to the front of the store. 

“Okay, I’m all yours,” he said, hopefully not too breathlessly, and wanted to kick himself. “What can I help you find?” he tried instead.

“Oh, um…” Marinette glanced at Gina, but she was still talking to Michel. “Um, well I have a helmet, but Grandma said I needed riding boots? And glasses. And a jacket with padding?”

“Okay, we can do that,” Luka smiled. “Boots are probably easiest, we only have a few kinds for women, so there’s not as much to pick from. We have about eight thousand different kinds of glasses,” he rolled his eyes but grinned back at her when she giggled. “Should we wait for Gina, or…”

Marinette shook her head. “It’s fine, she’ll come find us. She’s very chatty, so she might be a while.” 

“Okay, then, right this way,” he touched her arm with the tips of his fingers and indicated the direction with his other hand. “So, Le Mans, huh?”

“Yes, Grandma’s club is racing and she said she has to—how did she put it—” Marinette put her nose in the air and said in an affected Italian accent, “Nonna Gina will teach these young idiots why they should respect their elders!” 

Luka laughed a little harder than he should have as he gestured toward the shelf with their display models. “So your choices are a little limited, like I said, but you can go with the ankle boot or the taller ones, that’ll probably come up to about—” He looked down at her legs and then paused and ripped his gaze away. “Um, a little below the knee? Maybe a little higher on you because you’re—”

“Short?” Marinette finished with a giggle. 

“Yeah,” Luka grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s a fact,” Marinette shrugged. “I’ve accepted it. I’m taller than my mom, at least, but on the height front it looks like the Cheng blood won out over the Dupain.” She grinned.

“They do look a bit of an odd couple,” Luka chuckled. “Adorable though. I saw them on your Insta too. It looked like there was a lot of love there.”

Marinette’s grin widened. “There really is. So do you have a recommendation?”

“I like the taller boots when I ride,” Luka shrugged, “More protection is always good, plus you’re less likely to accidentally burn yourself on the exhaust.” 

“Ooh, good point,” Marinete said, wincing in a way that made Luka think she had experience with that hazard. 

“Oh, we do have one mid-calf model, that’s new,” Luka pointed to it. “Some women prefer to wear the men’s boots, so we have more options in those, but to be honest I don’t think they’re going to come small enough for you.” 

They discussed it a little further, and then Marinette picked out a couple of options. She took a pair of socks—knee socks, as it turned out—out of her purse and Luka made the mistake of watching her pull them on and up her leg. Marinette flashed him a smile in the middle of his internal meltdown that didn’t help  _ at all _ . 

Even worse, the stiff new leather gave her some trouble and Luka had to get down on one knee to help her get the boots on, trying desperately not to touch her any more than necessary. “Thanks,” she sighed when her foot was finally in the first one. He helped her get the second option on her other foot, and held her hand to steady her as she walked back and forth with them, a little wobbly as one had a thicker heel than the other. She picked one and then he had to help her get the wrong one  _ off  _ (professional, he promised Michel he’d be  _ professional _ ) and put on the mate of the one she’d picked. Marinette walked carefully back and forth in them and Luka folded his arms, bringing one hand up over his mouth and praying he wasn’t too obvious. 

“What do you think?” Marinette asked, turning to look at the boot in the mirror. It was nearly knee-high on her as he predicted, a black harness boot with pink hardware all the way up one side for lacing and a rugged rather than decorative sole and heel. It had enough height in the heel for her to ride comfortably, but not enough to cause her any trouble. 

_ I think you’re going to be so hot all geared up _ , Luka groaned in his head. “I think you’ll need to wear them for a bit and break them in, but other than that—are they comfortable? Because they look great on you.” That wasn’t too much, right? Still professional. 

“They feel pretty good,” she said thoughtfully. “The size feels right. They’re a little stiff, but they don’t rub anywhere weird.”

Luka was saved from having to reply to that by Gina descending on them. She made Marinette walk in them again, cooed over her “fairy” until Marinette was red-faced and Luka was trying not to laugh at her. “You can keep them on while we find the rest of your gear if you want,” Luka suggested. “That way you can walk around in them a bit, make sure they’re still comfortable.” Marinette gave him an excited smile and did a little eager bounce and Luka maybe died just a little bit. 

It actually didn’t take too long for Marinette to pick a pair of glasses; she went straight for a chrome and pink pair with rhinestones along the top and mirrored lenses, and she looked so adorable with them and so pleased with herself that Luka couldn’t help his grin. While Gina teased her about her pink addiction, Luka slipped away into the racks and came back with a mesh padded jacket that had pink panels with reflective piping in the front and back and down the arms. Marinette squealed and nearly hugged him as Gina laughed. Marinette put on the jacket and zipped it up. Gina checked the padding placement with the air of experience, and asked Luka for the next size down. He brought it and this time Gina nodded in satisfaction.

Nearly vibrating with excitement, Marinette put on her new glasses and checked herself out in the mirror. “How do I look?” she giggled, turning toward him. With her pink shorts and pigtails she looked more like a poster model than an actual biker, but even so— 

“You look amazing,” he told her, maybe more honestly than he should have. “Would you mind if I took your picture for our social media page?” He looked at Gina. “I’m sure Michel told you we’re looking to expand our female clientele.” 

“It is Marinetta’s decision,” Gina said with an indifferent shrug, “I have no objections if she does not.” 

With Marinette’s permission, he took her picture and then a picture of her and Gina together. 

“You’re adorable,” he chuckled absently as he posted the pictures. 

“Adorable?” Marinette repeated, deflating slightly, and Luka flushed. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. So much for professional, although...that didn’t seem to be what was bothering her. As cute as she was she probably got that all the time, he realized, glancing at her pouting face. Adorable probably wasn’t what a lady wanted to hear when she was decked out in motorcycle gear for the first time. 

Luka glanced at her and then at Gina, who had gotten distracted again. Then he leaned over slightly to look pointedly at Marinette’s new boots, hugging the curve of her calf. He met Marinette’s eyes.

“I’m working,” he told her, lowering his voice a little, “So I’m just going to say the gear suits you. But...change the hair and get some skinny jeans and I guarantee everybody else will use a different word.” He grinned at her and went back to his phone and Marinette giggled, blushing. 

“You can go ahead and tag me,” Marinette said, tipping her glasses up and peeking over—or rather around—his shoulder. “Grandma too.” She dictated Gina’s handle and then pulled out her own phone. “That should help get people from Grandma’s club to check it out. Will you take a selfie with me for mine?” 

Luka was more than willing to put his face next to hers and smile as she flashed her peace sign at the camera. 

“All right, let’s check you out—get you checked out,” Luka corrected quickly, shaking his head. “Unless there was anything else you needed?” 

“Um, I don’t think so,” Marinette said, sounding both thoughtful and maybe a little disappointed. Or maybe that was just him. 

“Okay, well follow me and I’ll get everything rung up,” Luka said, tipping his head toward the counter. “You want me to package it up or do you want to wear it out?”

“I can do that?” Marinette asked, eyes wide.

Luka shrugged and smiled. “It’s all yours once it’s paid for, so why not?” 

Marinette leaned her elbows on the counter, admiring her purchases. 

“So,” Luka said, glancing at her as he started going through the pile. “I gotta ask, what’s it like working for Jagged Stone?”

Marinette’s head shot up and a blush bloomed on her face. “How did you—oh, right, I gave you my—so you saw the—um, yeah.” She laughed awkwardly, reaching up to fidget with one pigtail. “It’s, um...it’s an experience?”

“High maintenance?” Luka grinned.

“So high maintenance,” Marinette groaned. “Oh, it’s embarrassing to admit it, but my first try bombed completely. It’s a long story but I basically got assigned to be his gopher for the day and he was bound and determined that he wanted those glasses and  _ nothing  _ I could find was good enough and so finally I was like forget it, he’s impossible I’m just going to make them myself and...and…” She spread her hands. 

“And now you’re friends with a rock star,” Luka laughed. “That’s awesome, Marinette.” He shook his head. “You must be incredibly patient as well as talented.”

“Oh...I…” She looked down at the counter, tracing a line of the grain with her finger. “I’m just...I like people. I like making people happy. I guess I’m a people pleaser.” 

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Luka commented as Gina came up to the counter. 

“Well, sometimes—“ Marinette cut off and bit her lip and looked at the total on Luka’s screen. “Grandma, are you sure—” 

“Hush, Marinetta,” was all Gina said, and Marinette just sighed with a fond smile. 

“Thank you, Grandma.” 

Luka gave Gina her receipt, and she immediately went back to whatever debate she’d been having with Michel. Luka looked at Marinette. “Well, you want to wear it?” 

Marinette nodded eagerly and Luka chuckled, pulling out his pocket knife. He cut the tags off of the jacket and Marinette slipped it back on and zipped it up. Then she pressed her lips together for a moment before reaching up to pull her pigtails out. She retied her hair in a low ponytail over one shoulder instead as Luka cut the tags off her glasses and peeled away the protective plastic. “Better?” she asked. She took the glasses Luka handed her and slid them on. 

“Well—” Luka glanced over at Gina and Michel, and leaned over, settling his elbows on the counter and speaking low. “I’m still working, but...ask any guy on the street and I think you’re going to get the answer you’re looking for.” He winked at her and Marinette grinned, looking pleased as she tilted the glasses up onto her head. 

“So I’m guessing you’re not racing,” Luka said, straightening up and sweeping the tags into the trash. He came around the counter and crouched next to her to cut the tags off of the boots she was still wearing. 

“No, definitely not,” Marinette laughed. “I’m just going to cheer Grandma on. And, you know, get out in the fresh air, have some fun. The races are open to the public,” Marinette added brightly as Luka straightened up and folded his knife. “It’s a big fundraiser and recruitment event for them actually, so it’s kind of a big party. I’m sure there will be plenty for me to do. Have you ever been there? To the track I mean?”

“The Bugatti Circuit? Yeah, a couple times for different things,” Luka replied, tucking the knife back in his pocket and leaning one elbow on the counter. “It’s a cool place, I’ve stayed at the campground nearby a few times. Great place to see some really cool bikes and cars, if you’re into that kind of thing. Most people who come to stay there are there for the tracks so they all have crazy machines.”

“Oh, that’s good to know,” Marinette exclaimed. “I don’t know much about cars but I bet I could get some amazing inspiration there.” She pouted a little. “I kind of wish my friends were going,” she whispered, glancing back to where Gina and Michel were chatting. “Grandma will be in the races and I’ll be stuck on my own. It’d be nice to be there with someone, especially someone who knew their way around.” Her eyes widened slightly and she blushed as she added in a rush, “I’m good at making friends though, I’ll find someone to hang out with.”

“No doubt,” Luka said, glancing over at Gina with a slight frown. He was sure Marinette wouldn’t lack for company and the idea of her being on her own made his big brother bone itch. So he told himself, anyway. “Just be safe, okay? You never know who’s going to show up at an event like that. People get a little bit of alcohol in them and they start acting stupid.” 

“I’m a good judge of character,” Marinette smiled. “I know how to stay out of trouble. Besides, I may be  _ adorable _ ,” she rolled her eyes. “But I’m not helpless.” 

_ You’re a snack and guys are going to be lining up like there’s only one vending machine, _ Luka thought grimly, but he kept his pleasant expression. “Well, is there anything else I can do for you, Marinette? It looks like you’re all set.” He put one hand on the boot box that now carried her street shoes and slid it closer to her.

“Oh,” Marinette blinked, like she’d forgotten why she was there. “Oh, no, I think that’s everything. I, um...thanks, Luka.” She picked up the box slowly, and her blue eyes were soft when she looked up at him. “Really, thank you. I was super nervous about coming to a place like this last time and you really made it easy, and today too, and I just...I’m grateful.”

Luka could feel his cheeks reddening. “I didn’t do anything special,” he shrugged, “A customer’s a customer, right? That’s Michel’s policy.” She made an affirmative noise and looked down and Luka knew he couldn’t just leave it at that. “But...I’m really glad I met you, Marinette. You’re a cool person. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime, just...around or whatever.” 

His eyes skimmed over Marinette’s head as he resisted the urge to ruffle his hair, and found Gina watching him with slightly narrowed eyes. Luka didn’t react outwardly; he wasn’t doing anything wrong and he didn’t care if she knew he thought Marinette was cute. Really, he’d managed to get out of this encounter so far without embarrassing himself  _ too _ badly or letting Michel down _ too _ much, so he was counting it a win. He forced himself to look back at Marinette though and smile.

“Maybe I  _ will _ see you around sometime,” Marinette said, suddenly not quite meeting his eyes either, and Luka’s pulse spiked. “Like you said, you never know who might show up at an event, right? Who knows, maybe I’ll be going to more events now that I’m all geared up for it.” She grinned and put her glasses back on. They did nothing to hide her suddenly flaming blush. “Well...bye Luka. Thanks again!” 

She nearly tripped in her sudden hurry to get out of the shop. Laughing, Gina caught her arm and said something quietly to her before glancing back at Luka and sending one more smile and a “ _ Ciao _ , dear!” at Michel.

“What did I tell you?” Michel said with satisfaction. “Good customer service is never wasted.”

“Yeah,” Luka said with a smiling sigh. “You told me.” Man, what he wouldn’t give to be in Le Mans next weekend. 

_ It’d be nice to be there with someone, especially someone who knew their way around. _

No...no, he couldn’t. That was crazy. No way she’d meant it the way he suddenly wanted to hear it. 

_ Like you said, you never know who might show up at an event, right? _

Luka shook his head and went back to work. No. No way. He wasn’t that lucky. He’d really look like a stalker if he showed up in Le Mans, two hours away, on a couple of vague hints that he was probably reading too much into.

The next time he had a quiet moment, Luka pulled up Marinette’s Instagram. There was the selfie of the two of them together. The caption read,  _ Gearing up for the trip to Le Mans next weekend! Had a great experience at Michel’s Motor Gear. The owner Michel is awesome and Luka took great care of me! Super patient, very professional, and soooo nice! AND he plays awesome guitar! #great shop #great service #great guy  _

Luka put his head down in his arms on the counter and whined. He was doomed. Worse, he wasn’t going to be able wipe the dumb grin off his face for hours.

He was still grinning stupidly at the picture when Michel walked by. 

“Boss,” Luka said absently, not looking up from his phone. “Can I have Saturday off?”

Michel saw the picture in his hand and frowned. “I don’t think I approve of dating customers.”

“Fair,” Luka agreed, the dopey grin not budging a millimeter. “I quit.”

Michel stood stunned for a moment and then sighed. “Of course. I forgot for a moment you’re Anarka’s boy.” He chewed his mustache for a moment. “Ah, you don’t have to quit. I was watching, I know you’ve acted like a pro. As long as you ask her out on your own time, got it?”

“Yeah. So, Saturday? I’m thinking about a day trip to Le Mans.”

Michel sighed. “Fine, take the weekend. Get it out of your system before Monday.”

Luka snorted softly. “No promises.”

* * *

His mother had taught him to throw caution to the winds, to take a chance and seize the moment, to care for no one’s opinion and to chase his own happiness.

She hadn’t, however, given him much of an education in the art of the cover story.

Luka pulled up to the campground without a single clue as to what he was going to say if—hopefully when—he ran into Marinette. He hadn’t exactly rushed to get there. He wasn’t a morning person in general and he’d decided to take the scenic route, hoping the familiar ride would help ground him. He’s come to see races here enough times that no one at home even questioned him about his impromptu road trip, which was a blessing. Juleka would never have let him hear the end of it.

The extra time hadn’t helped him, though, because when Luka pulled up to the parking lot next to the campsite and paid for a day pass, he still had no idea how he was going to explain showing up here in a way that wouldn’t sound obsessive or stalkerish or like he was totally smitten and absolutely not willing to trust fate to bring them together a third time. It was true that he loved motorcycle racing and he always enjoyed the energy at Le Mans, but...he really wanted to see Marinette again. 

Luka took off his riding gear and stowed it, dusting off his ripped black jeans and deciding he wouldn’t need his leather jacket. He nervously tugged down the hem of his navy blue t-shirt and then looked around, knees feeling rather weak and butterflies in his stomach as he tried to figure out his next move. Ugh, he was a wreck.  _ Just chill _ , he told himself, getting out his guitar and sitting back on his bike to tune it, just to calm his nerves.  _ Just enjoy the day and whatever happens, happens. Gina’s in the races, so probably Marinette will be in the stands somewhere so I’ll need to walk over there... _

He breathed, and focused for a moment on his pick slipping slowly down the strings, each one now perfectly in tune, and just as the last note faded he heard a familiar laugh. Luka looked up, his heart suddenly in his throat. Apparently fate wasn’t too mad at him for his lack of confidence because there she was.

And...wow, she looked  _ so _ good. She’d taken his advice and improved on it. Her skinny jeans had leather panels with pink piping running up the sides. A low-slung chain belt hung from her hips and her hair was back in what probably started as a sleek french braid. The slight ruffling and flyaway hairs just softened the otherwise devastating line from her jaw down her bare neck to her shoulders. She’d ditched her jacket somewhere along the way; she wore only a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Luka swallowed as the guy she was with leaned in, but Marinette just smiled and put her hand on his chest, pushing him back, and apparently saying goodbye as she walked away from him. 

Luka forgot about the other guy when she turned and he saw that the collar was cut too, into a modest V over her chest, not deep enough to actually show anything but more than enough to expose her collarbones and a very appealing expanse of skin. Her sweet face was the same but she looked so much more mature than he’d ever seen her and very, very hot. 

Marinette seemed oblivious to the heads she was turning as she strolled, hips naturally swaying on the uneven ground. Her eyes were on a book in the crook of her arm and she had a look of concentration on her face as she tapped a pencil thoughtfully to her lips. 

No more time for thinking. Time for action. Luka took a breath, shifting so that he leaned as casually as possible against the seat of his bike, and played the song he’d been playing when she’d surprised him at the shop.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her head whip around towards him, and it was work to keep his smile from giving him away. His heart leapt in his chest as she turned and made her way towards him and  _ shit _ , he still didn’t know what he was going to say, but screw it, he was good at winging it, right?

“Luka,” she called cheerfully, waving. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d see you here!” 

Luka could feel the eyes on him as he lifted his head and smiled at her. “Hey, Marinette. I was hoping I’d catch you sometime today. Yeah, my plans got cancelled and I didn’t have anything else to do, so I thought...why not a road trip?” He shrugged, and grinned, looking her up and down with considerably less intensity than he had when she wasn’t watching. “You look good.” 

“Good?” she pouted, as he rather thought she would.

“Better than good,” he winked. “Way better. But I don’t think you need me to tell you that,” he added, leaning back slightly to look pointedly at a group of young men behind her. Marinette turned to follow his gaze and blushed deeply when all but one of the group suddenly became very interested in looking elsewhere. The bold one gave her a slow up and down look and a wink. 

Marinette put her nose in the air and turned back to Luka, still red-faced. “Maybe,” she said, shrugging one shoulder and damn, her arms were really toned, he suddenly realized. He hadn’t noticed before because her build was so slender but now that he was looking, the girl had some guns. “But I’d still rather hear it from you.” 

That put a grin on his face that he couldn’t have kept back if he tried. “Where’s your grandma?” he asked, glancing around. “You’re not by yourself are you?” 

“Oh, she’s over at the track buttering up the pit crew,” Marinette said brightly. “I got kind of bored; the tech talk doesn’t interest me the way it probably would you, but I remembered what you said about the bikes over here so I thought I’d take a walk and come look around. I didn’t think I’d find you, though.”

“Well, I hope it’s a good surprise,” Luka said, looking down at his guitar and plucking a string idly just out of nerves. “I was kind of hoping to run into you. I’d love to hang out with you if you’d like to, but if you’d rather not, that’s cool too. I’m not trying to crash your day if you’d rather do your own thing.” 

Marinette’s cheeks pinked and she seemed to have a little trouble meeting his gaze for a moment. “Well, if you didn’t have any other plans, then...yeah, I’d love some company. Your company,” she added hastily, and then blushed redder, looking away. 

“I’d love to give it to you,” he grinned. “What were your plans?” 

“Nothing specific,” Marinette shrugged, and his eyes went to the line of her shoulders again. “I was just doing some sketching and then I thought I’d wander back over a little bit before the race started.

“Oh, awesome, can I see?” Luka asked, and she looked up, eyes brightening.

“You want to?” 

“Yeah, your stuff is amazing.” Luka slid over, making what little room he could for her to come lean next to him. “I’d love to see if that’s okay.” 

Marinette smiled shyly. “Okay. Just, keep in mind I’m not that experienced at drawing cars and things.” 

Luka spared a glance back at the other group of guys as Marinette came and leaned one hip on the bike seat, leaning over to show him her book. He couldn’t resist a smirk when he locked eyes with the one guy, who now looked rather sour.

They chatted about her sketches, Luka identifying the bikes for her to her delight, and he played a little music for her, and then her phone alarm rang out.

“Oh, it’s almost time for Grandma’s race,” she said, pulling the phone out of the back pocket of her jeans (God he really wanted to be that phone all of a sudden) to silence it. “I have to get back to the track.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Luka said, straightening up and failing to not watch her slip the phone back in her pocket. “Just let me lock up.” 

She exclaimed over the custom case he had mounted to the side of his bike as he put his guitar back in it and locked it shut. 

“It cost me a ridiculous amount of money,” Luka admitted, “But it’s a must. I don’t go anywhere without at least one guitar.”

That started another conversation as they began the walk to the racetrack, and he told her about how he’d grown up playing music and what he liked about his different guitar, and she talked about the types of music she liked, and he got to ask her more about working with Jagged and found she’d been a fan even before he was a client. 

Marinette ignored the whistles and catcalls as they walked, so Luka did too, though he walked a little closer to her and tried to stay between her and the worst offenders when the crowd got close. One man put a hand on her, but Marinette brought her boot solidly down on his instep without missing a step and kept walking, grabbing Luka’s arm to keep him from turning and giving the guy a piece of his mind. She kept her hand curled around his bicep for the rest of the walk, and Luka wasn’t sure whether it was for his comfort or hers. He wasn’t about to complain though. (He would, however, go to his grave before he’d admit maybe flexing a little bit under her hand.)

They got to the stands and Marinette had a spot right at the rail waiting for her, and Luka was able to put himself between her and the rest of the crowd. 

The races were the best kind—friendly but absolutely cutthroat—and not only was Marinette sweet, pretty, talented, and smart, she was  _ fun _ and Luka was having the time of his life. The nervous babbling was cute and all but listening to her trash talk the competition was  _ hilarious _ . Once he had to grab her around the waist because she heard someone insult her grandmother and he was afraid she was about to leap the rail and run onto the track to give them a piece of her mind. Her elbow whipped back into his gut mercilessly and she spent the next five minutes in horrified apologies while he tried to convince his lungs to inhale again.

“You weren’t kidding about being able to take care of yourself,” he said when he felt less like he was moments away from death. 

“I am so, so sorry,” Marinette said for the fiftieth time, clutching his arm. “I’m so sorry, it was just a reflex—” 

“Stop apologizing,” Luka sighed, rubbing his abdomen. “It was my fault, I had no right to grab onto you like that and you have every right to react that way if someone touches you in a way you don’t like.” 

“But I wouldn’t have minded if I had realized, I just—I got caught up in the moment and I forgot you were with me.”

“Aw, that hurts, Marinette,” Luka said with affected sadness. “Way more than the hit.” 

“No, no, that’s not what I—here they come!” She shoved him aside and pushed against the rail, screaming and jumping up and down. 

Gina’s bright red bike was easy to spot, trapped behind two others that clearly had some kind of agreement to block her. Luka’s mouth fell open and he cheered just as loud as Marinette when Gina, apparently cool as a cucumber, nipped neatly through a space no one would have thought she could fit through and took the lead. They zipped around the curve and back out of sight again.

“Your grandma’s a  _ badass _ , Marinette,” Luka grinned. “Wow.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Guess it runs in the family.”

Marinette giggled. “Wait until you meet my mom.” Luka looked at her in surprise and her eyes got round as she stared back at him, and her mouth did too, and then she was sputtering. “I didn’t mean—not that you would want to—not like if we were—“

Luka had to laugh, he couldn’t help it. “I gotta warn you,” he said, “My standards are kind of high. My mom’s pretty badass herself.” He glanced up at the board as the racers whipped by again, Gina still in the lead. “Last lap.” 

Marinette cheered and screamed as the racers came back into view, but the crowd was going wild and she was kind of tiny. Luka glanced around and made a quick decision.

“Come stand in front of me,” he told her, guiding her into place. “Keep your back to me. Put your hands in mine...no, like this.” He gave her quick instructions and she looked back over her shoulder at him in surprise. He grinned. “Trust me. On three.” She faced forward and Luka bent his legs. “One...two...three!” 

Marinette jumped and put her weight on her arms in his hands as Luka straightened and pushed her up. She yelped in surprise at the height and the speed, but managed to get her feet on his shoulders.

_ Forgot about the boots, _ Luka thought ruefully, gripping her calves and pulling down to stabilize her. 

Marinette wasted no time screaming “THAT’S MY NONNA!” at the top of her lungs and waving her hands wildly as Gina whipped across the finish line in front of them. She pulled off her helmet and turned to wave wildly at Marinette, a huge grin on her face!

Marinette cheered again and laughed, waving back with both hands, and Luka grinned. He squeezed Marinette’s calfs in warning, and then bent his legs and popped her up, catching her by the waist as she came down. She didn’t quite manage to come down straight and she stumbled as she landed, but Luka kept his grip on her waist until she was steady. Then she turned and hugged him. “Thanks Luka! That was amazing! I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

Luka chuckled breathlessly and hugged her back. “Nah,” he said, and it was mostly true; the burn in his arms wasn’t her fault—though the lingering pain in his abs kinda was. “Been a while since I did that,” he said, letting her go and rolling his shoulders. “You followed my lead like a pro, though.” 

Marinette tilted her head and quirked up one shoulder, smiling up at him. “Guess being a badass runs in your family too.” She brushed some dirt off the shoulder of his navy t-shirt and her gaze followed her fingers as they ghosted along the muscle of his arm before her hand dropped.

Luka grinned, suddenly feeling no pain. “Shall we go find Gina?” he suggested, and Marinette agreed brightly. She grabbed his hand, and Luka was so gone, so totally in love with this gorgeous contradiction of a girl that he wasn’t sure his feet actually touched the ground as they wormed through the crowd.

Marinette dropped his hand to throw her arms around Gina. Luka hung back, sticking his hands in his pockets, suddenly not particularly eager to meet the older woman’s sharp eyes. 

“Well, well, my little fairy, have you found a friend?” she asked, and he wasn’t quite sure how to read the tone of her accented voice. 

“You remember Luka, from the shop?” Marinette beamed back at him, her hand curling around his arm, and Luka couldn’t help returning it, though his cheeks heated slightly. His heart was beating so hard he felt breathless, but somehow he managed to get enough air in his lungs to speak.

“Nice to see you again, ma’am,” he said to Gina. “That was an amazing race. You really earned that win.” 

“Oh, he’s a charmer, this one,” Gina laughed, though she shook the hand he offered. “Well, I can hardly complain about such sincere flattery. Thank you my dear, I am just a little proud of that one.” She put her hand on Marinette’s head. “Well, my fairy, I am positively famished. Let me pack up my gear and we’ll find a nice spot for that picnic your father packed.”

His heart dropped from his throat to his stomach, but he tried to keep up his smile. “I guess that’s my cue,” Luka said reluctantly to Marinette as Gina turned to put her things away. “I had a really great time hanging out with you, Marinette.” 

Marinette’s face fell. “You’re leaving?”

“Well, it sounds like you have plans and I don’t want to intrude—” he began, hoping to at least get her number before he had to leave.

“Oh, no, please have lunch with us,” Marinette said eagerly. “Papa always makes twice as much food as we need for everything, I’m sure there will be plenty. I mean—if you didn’t have plans. I know you probably have lots you want to see so if you’d rather not—” 

“No, I—I’d like to.” Luka reached up and ruffled the back of his hair nervously as he glanced at Gina. “But if this is your time with your grandma, I don’t want to intrude…” 

“Nonsense, dear,” Gina said, straightening and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Marinetta is right, Tom will surely have packed more food than we need, and you are quite welcome to join us. Unless, as Marinette said, you had other plans?” There was something about her smile and the sly look she gave him that made his face heat.

“No, no plans,” he replied, barely managing not to squeak. He cleared his throat. “Um, if you ladies wouldn’t mind the walk back to the campground, there’s a picnic area over by the day parking.” He looked at Marinette. “Right where I parked, you remember? There were tables but I don’t recommend them, they’re pretty gross, but there’s a big grassy area that should have plenty of room and it’ll be quieter over there. Of course if you had something else in mind, that’s fine too, I’m flexible.”

“That sounds lovely, doesn’t it Marinetta?” Gina slung one arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “We will go have a nice picnic, and then come back and watch the afternoon races.” They stopped to drop off Gina’s bag and pick up their cooler, which Luka offered to carry, and the three of them made the walk to where Luka’s bike was parked. They were having lunch a little late, so they didn’t have any trouble finding a comfortable patch of grass to lay out a blanket. 

“You were right,” Marinette smiled at him as she opened the cooler. “It’s much quieter over here.” 

“Wow,” Luka said, staring as Marinette unpacked the food. “You weren’t kidding.”

“My Tom believes in expressing his love through food,” Gina said with amusement. “He gets that from his father. It does at least mean we have extra for new friends when we meet them.”

It was a very French meal, with several different kinds of bread and cheese, including brie and chevere that Marinette drizzled with honey, as well as fruit and other treats. 

“Wow, this is great,” Luka commented. “This is all delicious.”

“My parents run a bakery,” Marinette told him. “Best macarons in Paris. Papa made all of this himself fresh this morning.”

“Wow,” Luka repeated. “Thanks for sharing it with me. Definitely a million times better than anything I could have scrounged up around here.” 

Gina, as it turned out, was a lot of fun too. She really had travelled all over the world. Luka was no homebody himself and had been to a lot of places both with his family and alone, but Gina was on a whole other level. Her stories frequently had him in stitches, though Marinette’s rolled eyes when Gina wasn’t looking told him that their charm had long ago worn off on her. 

She listened to  _ his _ stories, however, with big eyes and eager ears, and asked Luka a lot of questions which he wasn’t at all opposed to answering. 

“That’s so cool,” she sighed as he finished describing sea kayaking in the Northern Highlands of Scotland, where his mother’s family was from. “You both make me sound so boring.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Luka said, leaning back a little so he could look up at her. He was on his side, propped on one elbow with his long legs stretched out so that his boots were off the blanket. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, designer for rockstars, rubbing elbows with supermodels and newscasters, taking the fashion world by storm one design contest at a time?” She blushed under his soft look. “Compared to you I’m just a slacker with a guitar.”

Marinette brightened and she looked back towards his bike. “Your guitar! Can you play for us? If you don’t mind...I mean it’s okay if you don’t want to—” 

“I always want to,” Luka chuckled, sitting up and grabbing a napkin to make sure his hands were clean. “I’d never stop if I had my way.” He looked at Gina, who waved him on before he could even ask, and pushed himself up to retrieve his guitar. He also brought his leather jacket back and offered it to Marinette. Some clouds had rolled in, bringing a light breeze, and she had goosebumps on her arms. She smiled gratefully at him and slipped it on and he had to keep his face turned away to hide his grin.

It was pretty close to heaven, sitting in the warm grass, comfortably full, with his guitar in his lap, playing whatever came to him. Whenever he looked up there was Marinette, with her sweet face and pretty eyes, enveloped in his jacket as she quietly cleaned up the remains of their picnic. When she finished, she moved over next to him, and without meaning to he looked up at her just at that moment, and their eyes caught and held, and he suddenly forgot what he was playing. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Luka shook his head without looking away.

“It’s fine,” he said, hands already beginning to play a new melody, soft and warm like fresh bread and honey, but crisp on his steel strings like the fresh air. “I think I like this one better.” 

They stared at each other a moment longer and both jumped when Gina cleared her throat. Luka ripped his gaze away from Marinette and swallowed hard, glancing guiltily at Gina.

Gina studied him for a moment, and then Luka’s heart nearly stopped when she smirked at him. “I’ll be back in a little while,” she said, getting to her feet, and waved Marinette down as she started to get up. “No, no, darling, you stay with your friend, you will be bored trailing behind me talking to people you don’t know about things you aren’t interested in. You look so comfortable, just relax. I’ll catch up with you later.” 

“Are you sure, Grandma?” Marinette frowned. “You know I don’t mind what we do together.”

“I’m sure, my fairy, I want you to have a good time too. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. You won’t even miss me.” She winked over Marinette’s head at Luka. 

“That’s strange,” Marinette fretted. “Usually when she’s in town she sticks to me like glue. I hope I didn’t do anything to upset her.”

Luka chuckled through his nose, setting his guitar carefully aside on the blanket. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“You don’t think so?” Marinette sighed, still looking towards where Gina had gone. 

Luka took a deep breath and swallowed his nerves. Deceptively casually, he leaned back on his hands and nudged his shoulder against hers. “Well, I might be wrong, but I kinda think she’s figured out that I’m crazy into you and she’s doing me a solid by ditching us for a few minutes so I can ask you out.”

The sudden dump of adrenaline in his veins made the next few moments seem like they were in slow motion. God, she was beautiful, swallowed up in his jacket, her short braid flying as she whipped her head around to look at him, lips parting in surprise, cheeks rapidly turning pink, and her eyes—he could get lost in those eyes forever, and right now they were huge, the thick lashes dark against her pale skin.

Outwardly, he remained calm, but his heart was pounding, his fingers curling tight in the grass to keep his hands from visibly shaking, and his breathing was shallow.

“R-really?” Marinette whispered, and Luka dared to shift his weight and raise one hand to capture a strand of hair that kept whipping across her lips and tuck it behind her ear.

“Yeah,” he said,careful to meet her eyes. “Really, Marinette. The more I learn about you, the more I want to know. You’re amazing and I really, really like you.”

“I...I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. 

“Oh, well, there’s plenty of options,” Luka shrugged, trying to be casual. “‘I like you too, Luka.’ ‘Sorry, Luka, I don’t feel that way about you.’” He had to clear his throat to go on. “‘Wow, Luka, this is kind of unexpected, I think I need some time to process before I can really answer.’ ‘I’d rather just be friends, Luka.’ ‘Shut up and kiss me, Luka.’ Any of those, really.” He softened as he looked at her. “Whatever you want to say is fine, Marinette. I won’t get upset if it’s not the answer I’m hoping for. I just, I’ve never met anybody like you, and I’d hate myself if I didn’t take the shot.”

Marinette opened her mouth, and then closed it again, and bit her lip. “Well,” she said slowly, Luka hanging on every breath, though her dawning smile made his heart gallop even faster. “It’s definitely not the second one. The third one is c-close, maybe,” she looked down at her hands in her lap, where she was playing with her fingers nervously. “But...I think I’m going to go with the first one.” 

“It’s a good one,” Luka said, voice shaky with sudden giddiness. He tried to steady as it went on. “My second favorite option, I’d say.” 

Marinette gave him that blinding smile, like the sun bursting out from the clouds. “Shut up and kiss me, Luka.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he breathed eagerly, leaning forward without hesitation to cup her cheek and turn her face so he could kiss her pretty lips. It was only supposed to be gentle and tender and befitting a first kiss, but Marinette grabbed his shirt and kissed him back, harder and deeper, and he was sure his soul departed his body in the moan that he let out. His senses were overwhelmed; the smell of leather and grass, the lingering taste of honey, the roar of the engines in the distance, her fingers brushing over his jaw and down his neck, and the warm, electric feel of her mouth moving against his as they kissed and kissed again. 

He felt downright drunk when she finally let him go. “I’ve maybe wanted to do that for a while,” she said with a mischievous, if slightly embarrassed, smile. The admission and the sight of her reddened lips did absolutely nothing to help his composure. Marinette’s brow creased as she looked at his dazed expression. “Luka?” 

Luka lifted one finger and laid back dizzily onto the grass, staring up into the sky as a completely idiotic grin spread over his face. 

Marinette’s face appeared over him, framed by the collar of his jacket as her shoulders hunched up, and the grin only got wider. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Nope,” he sighed. “I must be dead, because I just kissed an angel.” 

Marinette’s face washed over with color, sweeping the worried look from her face. “I don’t think angels wear leather,” she giggled. Something else seemed to occur to her and her eyes twinkled down at him. “But maybe fairies do.” 

Luka chuckled. “When bards fall in love with Scottish fairies it never ends well.” 

Marinette’s mischievous smile sent a thrill through his entire body. “It’s a good thing I’m French then, isn’t it.” 

“I’m enchanted, that’s for sure.” Luka gazed up at her. “You’re so beautiful, Marinette.” 

Why that particular compliment startled her so, he couldn’t say, but her face disappeared from his view as she shot upright, turning red. 

“What?” Luka asked, chuckling, as he rolled up onto his elbow. 

“You can’t just say things like that!”

“Why not?” he laughed. “I’ve been thinking it since we met.” He reached over and slipped his hand over Marinette’s, brushing her fingers lightly with his until she let him lift it and tangle their fingers together.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty,” he told her, in a conspiratorial whisper that had her unconsciously leaning towards him. “But I have to say you look  _ really _ good in leather. Especially my leather.” 

Marinette made an inarticulate noise in her throat, looking at him wide-eyed and blushing so hard it was a wonder she hadn’t passed out. Luka grinned. “And you’re  _ so _ talented,” he told her. “You’d think I was a stalker if you knew how much time I spent looking through your Instagram feed.” She made another squeak and he could actually see her pulse fluttering in her neck. “And sweet,” he added, inching a little closer. “At least half those things you made were for other people.” 

She was totally speechless now, so overwhelmed Luka put his fingers on her cheek and murmured “Breathe, Marinette.” 

Marinette drew in a great gulp of air. “How can you say all those things,” she huffed as Luka straightened up and faced her more fully. 

“I told you, didn’t I?” Luka grinned, fingers sliding around to the back of her neck, eyes fixed on her lips. “I’m crazy into you.” Marinette smiled and Luka leaned forward. 

Suddenly something stiff whacked the top of his head. Luka ducked away and lifted a hand to shield himself. 

“None of that now,” Gina declared. “At least not until you’ve taken my Marinetta on a proper date.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Luka said, sitting up straight quickly. “I absolutely will do that.” 

“Grandma!” Marinette scowled, snatching the rolled-up motorcycle magazine out of Gina’s hand. “I can kiss him if I want to!” To prove the point, she tossed the magazine aside, grabbed Luka’s face, pulled it to her own, and kissed him firmly. He couldn’t have stopped himself from melting into her if his life depended on it, one hand coming up to grip her shoulder automatically. 

Standing over them, Gina made an amused noise and folded her arms.

Marinette looked a little bit embarrassed when she released him, but her smile returned at the dazed look he once again gave her. “Will you, um,” he cleared his throat. “Will you go out with me? I don’t work on Wednesdays, we could do dinner and a movie?” 

Marinette giggled. “I’d love to.”

Luka looked up at Gina, who shrugged, clearly finding the whole thing funny. “Good enough, I suppose. But you will treat my fairy right, or you will deal with Nonna Gina.” 

“Don’t worry,” Luka said breathlessly, a smile spreading over his face as he gazed at Marinette. “No way am I ever going to want to break this spell.”

The rest of the day felt like a pleasant dream, his fingers tangled with Marinette’s, full of little touches, quiet laughter, and light, quick kisses—in between screaming trash talk at the races, which he still found incredibly funny. It was even funnier when Gina joined them, screaming in a garbled mix of Italian and French that had him nearly doubled over laughing. She grinned and ruffled his hair and scolded him half-heartedly. 

Finally Luka looked reluctantly up at the nearly-setting sun. “I should go,” he sighed. Gina and Marinette were staying overnight for another set of races the following day, but Luka had only planned on a day trip. “If I leave soon I won’t have to make the whole trip in the dark.”

Marinette sighed and wrapped her hands around his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’ll walk you back.”

They strolled slowly back to where he was parked, taking their time. Luka perched on the edge of the motorcycle’s seat, and reached for Marinette’s hands. She let him take them and draw her closer so that she was standing between his legs. “I had a great time with you today,” he said, rubbing his thumbs over her hands. “I’m really, really looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Me too,” she said, smiling. “To both.” 

“Now that I’m allowed to say it,” he murmured, running his eyes along the line of her shoulder and up her neck, where he’d been longing to run his lips all afternoon, “I want to make sure I tell you that you look super hot today.” 

Marinette blushed, but looked pleased. “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” Luka sighed, chuckling softly. “Can I kiss you one last time?”

“One last time?” she asked, eyes twinkling above her fake pout.

“Last time today,” Luka corrected with a grin. “All bets are off when I pick you up on Wednesday.” 

Marinette giggled. “Shut up and kiss me, Luka.” 

He took her face gently in his hands and kissed her, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, then sliding his hands down to her neck so his thumbs slid along her jaw. He felt her shudder and kissed her deeper, tilting her head back. Her fingers unhooked from where they were clinging to his shirt and slid up his neck and into his hair and she pressed closer, lips parting under his in an invitation he was not about to refuse. He finally pulled back slowly and more than a little reluctantly, giving into the temptation to suck lightly on her criminally plump, soft bottom lip for just an instant before letting it slide from between his lips and opening his eyes. To his satisfaction, when her eyes fluttered open she was looking up at him with the same kind of dazed look he’d given her earlier, her mouth so irresistibly reddened that he laid one more soft kiss on her lips before nuzzling her temple, waiting for her to find the ground again. 

When she did she turned her face into his cheek and put her arms around his neck, making a small whine. Luka chuckled, sliding his hands across her back and hugging her tightly to him. 

“Hey,” she said against his neck. “One more selfie before you have to go?” 

Luka grinned, nuzzling her forehead. “Sure.” 

* * *

“I didn’t know Marinette had a boyfriend,” Adrien commented. 

Alya nearly spit her drink across the table. “What?” 

Adrien turned his phone towards her to show her his Instagram feed and Alya and Nino both gaped. Sure enough there was Marinette with a dark-haired boy with dyed blue tips and a leather jacket. He had his arm around Marinette’s waist and she was draped over his side—wait was she sitting on his knee?—and beaming at the camera. The guy’s smile was softer but just as happy and he was leaning his head against Marinette’s. The sky behind them was streaked with sunset colors. Alya opened her mouth to deny it but Adrien swiped his thumb to show them the next picture, in which the mystery man was kissing a shy, blushing, but obviously happy Marinette on the cheek. The caption only said  _ Fairy tales do come true _ . 

“Wait a minute,” Alya said, grabbing her own phone and swiping furiously. “Isn’t that—yes! It’s the hottie from the motorcycle shop!” She turned another picture towards them from the previous weekend, where Marinette next to (though not nearly so close) the same guy, this time wearing a black t-shirt with a shop logo on it. “Marinette’s been hanging out at motorcycle racing and making out with a bad boy all day!”

“Oh, come on, I doubt she was making out with him.” Adrien rolled his eyes. 

Alya now had the picture open on her phone and she looked up at Adrien from it with her eyebrows raised.

“Adrien trust me, that is a girl who has been very recently smooched.” 

Adrien frowned, looking back at the picture. “Really? How can you tell? I mean she looks happy, but she could just be having fun.”

“Oh my God, you’re so dense,” Alya groaned. “Nino, what the hell, educate your boy.”

“Ah, nope, sorry. He can learn about makeout face from someone else.” He leaned over to look at Alya’s phone. “Hey, I think I know him,” Nino frowned, leaning closer. “He plays in one of the bands that do the club rounds.” 

“Is he a player?” Alya demanded immediately, narrowing her eyes. 

Nino shrugged. “Dunno. If he is, he’s not as blatant about it as some of the other guys.” 

“That shade of lipstick really suits her,” Adrien commented. “I’ve never seen her wear it before.” 

Alya groaned and dropped her head into her arms on the table. “You’re impossible,” came the muffled mutter as Nino patted her back sympathetically.


	7. These Two Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worked on this for ages, and I just couldn't get it to come out right, so I put it aside and worked on other things. I hadn't looked at it in months, and then there was a WIP meme on tumblr that reminded me of it, and I started looking it over, and it turned out to be ridiculously easy to fix and finish, so here it is at last! 
> 
> I'm marking this collection complete even though I still have a few stories started for it, because I won't be able to focus on them for a while, but if you've enjoyed these do subscribe so that you can be notified when I get back to it!
> 
> Shoutout to all my artist buddies, whose complaining about hands being such a pain to draw gave me the idea for this fic. ;D Love you guys.
> 
> I don't think I said anything that specifically made it clear, but they're university aged in this one.

It was a beautiful summer day in Paris, with just enough breeze to keep the heat from being unbearable. Enjoying the weather and his music, Luka had no idea how long he’d been sitting there playing on the warm, wide stone steps of the Trocadero. A while, by the sun and the hollow feeling in his stomach. Luka packed up his guitar and slung it across his back. He started to descend the steps, but paused as he nearly trod on something at the bottom. He bent down and picked up the book, plain black and with heavy, weighted paper, like an artist’s book. It wasn’t battered or dirty, like it had been there for days, though the canvas cover was frayed a bit at the corners. Well-used, he concluded, and lost only recently.

Luka looked around, hesitant. He couldn’t see anybody who looked like they’d lost something. He went back up the steps and looked around at the top, with the same result. 

Luka sighed. He got so into his music, he frequently lost awareness of his surroundings, so while he knew some people had stopped on the steps to hear him play, he had no memory of what they looked like or what they’d been doing, other than Officer Roger passing by and giving him the stinkeye. Apparently the officer hadn’t felt like ruining a perfectly good day by hassling about permits and nonsense, though, and once he’d moved on, Luka had played without regard to his audience.

He went back down the stairs, thinking, and then sat down slowly on the bottom step. He felt like an intruder as he opened the book, as he thought of the battered spiral notebook full of embarrassing, half-finished scribbles he carried in his guitar case. He checked the inside of both covers first, but found only the initials MDC. No phone number, not even a full name.

Luka blew out a frustrated breath, fluffing his bangs away from his face. Reluctantly, he began turning pages. 

It was full of...hands. Hands planting a seedling, hands cleaning something indistinct. Hands buried in a lumpy mass. Clay? Or maybe dough? Hands twined in yarn, holding the vague suggestion of knitting needles. What they were doing was usually only lightly sketched in and suggested, but the hands themselves were detailed and bold. It was kind of weird at first, but as he continued to turn the pages, still checking each for some sign of the owner, he began to appreciate the different types of beauty and strength captured on each page. He could imagine the trembling in the wrinkled hands with swollen joints that held a flower stem delicately. There were fingers curved over a computer keyboard, charged with energy, and he could almost hear the rapid smack of the fingers hitting the keys. 

Luka found himself rubbing his fingers together. He’d never contemplated his hands from an aesthetic standpoint. Why would he? They were rough and scarred; his fingers from the guitar, his palms from the ropes and rigging on the boat, from the lifting and carrying required for the constant rearranging of the stuff on deck to make sure they could get around. He’d never thought about whether they were—any of what he saw in these pictures. 

He glanced up and around again, still feeling guilty to be poking through someone else’s private things, but no one was paying him any mind, and he still had no clues as to the owner. He tried to flip quickly, just checking each page for even a hint of where he might go to return it, but with everything but the hands indistinct there wasn’t much to go by. 

He stopped in surprise on the last sketch in the book, staring at the drawing of hands on a guitar. The guitar was just roughed in, once again more of a suggestion than a drawing, except where the left hand rested on the fretboard, pressing into the strings. 

The hands, though, were incredibly detailed, and, he realized with a sudden blush, they were his. He touched his thumb to the ring on his pointer finger absently. The right hand, curved to strum, the pick invisible from that angle but implied, had bracelets matching his stacked along the wrist. 

The nails were colored in, dark like his, but beyond that, he wouldn’t have recognized them without the jewelry and the small curving scar near the thumb of the right hand.

These hands were elegant, graceful,  _ intentional _ . It had been a long time since Luka last consciously thought about the control he had over his hands, but he couldn’t help thinking about it now. It had taken him years of practice to get there, but when he played, his hands did exactly what he needed them to, found the strings he needed quickly and accurately. Though they were thin, they were strong and sure, equally capable of coaxing a melody and knotting a rope with speed and strength. 

That was what this person had seen in them, at least. 

“Oh!”

Luka looked up and found a girl staring at him with both hands over her mouth, her blue eyes wide. Her gaze flickered between him and the book. 

“Is this yours?” he asked without thinking. 

She nodded slowly, pink spreading over her cheeks. 

Luka closed it quickly and stood up, offering it to her. She took a hasty step forward, grabbing the book gratefully, but somehow got her feet tangled up and yelped as she tipped forward. Luka caught her shoulders and steadied her. “Woah, easy.” He shifted her back until she was solidly on her feet, and let go. “I’m sorry for snooping, it’s just I found it on the steps and I was trying to find a name or something so I knew who to give it back to. I wasn’t having much luck, though, so I’m really glad you came back.” 

“Oh,” she said, blushing and holding the sketchbook to her. “It’s okay, of course I understand. I’m glad it was found, at least. I just...I’m just kind of embarrassed, I know it must look kind of weird, and I usually ask before I draw someone but you were busy and the music was so lovely and I started watching your hands and just kind of got caught up in the moment but I’m really sorry—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Luka said, putting a hand on her shoulder briefly to interrupt as she began picking up speed. “I thought they were cool, and I’m flattered you saw something in my hands worth capturing.”

She smiled shyly. “I like hands that make things. They’re my favorite. I mean, it started just as a drawing exercise, because hands are hard, and so I thought if I just kept drawing them I’d get better. And...and then when I started looking, I got interested, and I kept going. It’s kind of stress relief now. And that probably doesn’t make it any less weird.” She put one hand back over her face, the other still clutching her sketchbook, and made a little whine. “Why am I still talking?” 

“That’s amazing,” Luka smiled, and then hesitated. “Um, are you busy? On your way somewhere? Because if not, I’d really like to look at some more. If it’s okay with you.” 

Her eyes widened slightly, and the flush on her cheeks deepened. “R-really? I mean, sure, if you, um. If you want to. I didn’t really think they were that interesting, to be honest.”

“Well, I do,” Luka said, and backed up to sit back down on his steps, tipping his head to invite her to sit next to him. “My name’s Luka.”

She smiled nervously, perching on the step and tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m Marinette.” Luka turned back to the beginning of the book, and began to page through more slowly, pausing now and then to ask Marinette about a picture.

“That’s my grandmother,” she told him, as he looked at a picture of half-gloved hands resting on the handles of a motorcycle. “She travels a lot.” 

“I really like this one,” he said after a moment, pausing at the hands twined in yarn. 

“I, um,” Marinette hunched her shoulders a little bit. “I love drawing people knitting. They all look so different, even though they’re doing the same thing. Everyone holds the yarn a little bit differently, knits just a slightly different way.”

“And this?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “I can’t quite figure this one out.”

“That’s my friend Kim,” Marinette explained. “He’s a swimmer. He was doing backstroke time trials and I just got really fascinated with the way his hands held onto the wall. I didn’t quite get the perspective right, though.” She giggled nervously, and Luka smiled at the sound. “The blurry spots are from when he dripped on me trying to get a look at what I was doing.” 

“I can see it now,” Luka nodded. “The tension in them, and why you did the eyes here between them—”

“They ended up looking kind of buggy, with the goggles,” Marinette admitted. 

“No, I really like it, though,” Luka looked up to flash her a quick smile. “You really get that sense of power about to let loose.”

Marinette blinked. “Y-yeah,” she smiled. “Yeah...thanks.”

“Why make the rest of the drawings so incomplete compared with the hands?” Luka asked curiously, looking up from the book to meet her eyes. “I mean, I get why the hands are the focus, but why make the rest of it so vague?” 

Marinette blushed. “It’s...stupid. I don’t know if it’ll even make sense if I say it out loud.”

“Try me,” Luka smiled. 

“It’s just, no matter how I draw them, it’s not the full picture,” Marinette said thoughtfully, and then glanced up at him with an adorably shy smile. “No pun intended. I just mean that there’s so much that these hands can do and when I draw them, I’m really only capturing one. I’d be fascinated to find out what else your hands can do besides play guitar,” she added, and Luka’s face flamed red, though Marinette didn’t seem to notice anything suggestive about what she’d said as she picked his hand up, examining it. Luka swallowed as she turned his hand over and ran her fingers over the calluses on his palm. “You didn’t get these from the guitar,” she said. “Sports? Or something else?” 

Luka cleared his throat. “I live on a boat on the Seine,” he said, watching her. “I work with a lot of ropes, and I’m always climbing around fixing something or other.” 

Marinette nodded, looking up at him, his hand still cradled in hers. “That explains the tan. What else?” 

“Um…” Luka blinked, trying to think. “I carry sound and boat equipment.” 

“Okay,” Marinette said, still listening. Looking at him like he was a puzzle she was trying to solve. He wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear, or why he suddenly very much wanted to be worthy of her interest, but...

“I...comfort my sister,” Luka said softly, dropping his gaze to his hand again. “She’s nervous, she gets worried. I put my hand on her shoulder so she knows that I’m there with her and she’s not alone. I...I calm my mother down. She’s kind of...passionate, she gets worked up about stuff a lot. I put my hand on hers or on her arm to remind her to take a minute to breathe.” 

“And you help up strangers who trip over their own feet,” Marinette giggled. 

“Yeah,” Luka smiled, looking at her. “That too.” 

“It sounds like your hands do a lot of good,” she said. “Your hands help people. Lift them up. You carry, you support. That’s very noble, Luka.”

Luka’s face heated. “Poetic, but...I think that’s giving me a bit too much credit,” he said, looking down at her little hands on his. He was beginning to be fascinated with their contrast, by the way their fingers looked together. Impulsively he closed one hand, capturing hers gently.

“You’re really special, Marinette,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody that thinks like you.” 

Marinette stared at him for a second, and then looked down at their hands. It seemed to hit her all at once that she’d been holding onto him, and she jerked her hands back, face reddening. “I’m so sorry—I’m being really weird, aren’t I?” Marinette hunched her shoulders. “I’m sorry—”

“Maybe a little bit,” Luka broke in, stopping her from another apology spiral. “But what’s weird anyway? Just something a little different than normal. Unique. Nothing wrong with that. Let’s just roll with it.” He grinned. “Embrace the weird. May I see yours?” 

She looked startled. “W-what?” 

“Your hands,” he said, holding out his own. “May I see them?” 

Marinette couldn’t get any redder but her mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a moment. “It’s okay,” Luka said quickly. “If you’d rather not. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.” 

“No, it’s fine,” she said, hunching her shoulders again. “It’s only fair, right? Gosh, I didn’t even ask you, you must think I’m so—” She made a wordless noise in her throat and held out her hands stiffly. 

“I don’t,” Luka chuckled. “I didn’t mind. It doesn’t have to be fair, though,” Luka said, making no move to take her hands again. “If you’re not okay with it, don’t feel like you have to.” 

“It’s really okay,” she said. Her hands relaxed a little, her shoulders came down, and there was enough sincerity in her smile to convince him. “It’s just, I don’t think mine are anything special.” 

“Hmm,” Luka chuckled, slowly reaching to take her hands. “I didn’t think mine were either, until today.” His hands dwarfed hers as he closed his fingers lightly. Her fingers were slender and elegantly tapered. Her fingernails were short but filed meticulously into perfect ovals. He ran his thumbs lightly over the backs, tracing the veins and gliding over the bumps of her knuckles. 

“So what do you do with these hands, besides drawing?” he asked as he looked. 

“Sewing, mostly. Some knitting and crochet and things like that, but mostly I make clothes. I’m in school for fashion design and I’m always working on some project or other. That’s why my hands are always so beat up.”

Gently Luka turned her hands over, letting go of her left hand to trail his fingers over the palm and fingers of her right, noticing the calluses on her fingertips and one on the side of her middle finger. 

Luka looked up at her and grinned. “You said hands that make things are your favorite.” 

Marinette shrugged slightly, smiling. “It’s worth the callouses. The business stuff, I could live without, but the making—it doesn’t feel like work. I like making things that help people express themselves.” 

Luka picked her left hand up again and noticed a shiny burn scar on the heel of it. He turned that hand up and let go of the other to run his fingers lightly over the scar. “What’s the story here?”

“A boring one,” Marinette chuckled, making a face. “I’m a klutz and I live in a bakery. I tripped and put my hand down in the wrong spot. I’ve gotten lots of burns for various reasons but that’s the only one that really left a mark.”

“Do you bake?” 

“Sometimes. Not for the bakery, but for friends and family on special occasions. I also do a lot of decorating. Cakes and cookies and stuff. I’m a master with a piping bag.”

“That makes sense,” Luka said softly, thoughtfully. 

Marinette tilted her head and looked up at him. “Luka?”

“These little hands create so much beauty,” he mused aloud, marveling. Marinette squeaked and he glanced up at her, a question on his tongue, but he froze instead, caught by her eyes, clear baby blue, framed with dark lashes, and currently wide and staring at him. It struck him all at once as he took in her vibrant blush and pretty parted lips that she was really, really beautiful, and that he’d been fondling her hands for the last several minutes and he should...he should probably let go.

He didn’t want to. 

He didn’t want to let go of those tiny, strong, capable, beautiful hands. 

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” Luka said, and cleared his throat to smooth out his suddenly rough voice. “What you were saying about my hands lifting people up. Your hands...make things beautiful. You take ordinary things and make them better.” He looked back down at their hands, rubbing his thumbs absently across her knuckles as he spoke. “That’s a pretty special gift, Marinette. Making the world a more beautiful place, or even just making it so that people can see the beauty that’s already there...you’re amazing.” He took a deep breath and forced himself to look back at her face. “Would you, um...this is going to sound really forward, but would you go out with me sometime?” 

“O-out?” Marinette stammered, looking rather like she’d just been hit in the head with a board.

Luka tried not to laugh. “Yeah. Out. On a date? Maybe this weekend? I know we just met, but…”

“I’d like to,” Marinette blurted, face red. “That...that sounds really great.” She dropped her gaze for a minute, and then flicked her eyes back up shyly, a slow smile curling her lips. “But if you want my number, you’re going to have to let go of my hands first.” 

Luka grinned back, squeezing her hands instead of releasing them. “Or I could just take you out right now. Are you free for lunch? I’m starving, personally.” 

* * *

It was another sunny summer day, on the same stone steps, and Marinette and Luka sat pressed close together, the fingers of his right hand threaded together with her left, as she sketched busily on the sketchbook in her lap. They’d been there for a while now, but Luka was comfortable and happy lounging on the sun-warmed steps, humming a tune to himself and trying not to fidget in a way that would tug on the hand Marinette was holding. 

He was staring blankly at nothing, remembering their first kiss. Well. Not their _first_ kiss, standing outside of her home while he held her hands in his and leaned in to press his lips to hers for just a sweet, soft moment. Their first  _ real _ kiss, when his hand came up to cup her cheek as hers slid back and slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck and he kissed her for real. He remembered noticing how his hand felt so big compared to her face as his thumb brushed her soft cheek, his touch feather-light and reverent even as hers was firm against him. She tilted her face to better meet him, and his thumb slipped down to her jaw, his calloused fingertips fanning out along the side of her neck. He remembered the way she gasped, leaning into his touch, which pulled her lips away from his. He’d kissed along her jaw as his rough palm skimmed down the elegant line of her neck and followed the curve of her shoulder before stroking back up again to pull her closer. How their other hands had met and twined together, fingers locked as they were now, palms pressed tight together. He remembered how the strength in those little hands had surprised him. 

Movement beside him jerked him back to the moment, as Marinette sat back to look at her page critically. Swallowing, Luka seized his moment. 

“Can I see?” he asked as he sat up and leaned over, and Marinette shifted the sketchbook so he could look at the drawing of their joined hands she’d been working on. 

Marinette had teased him a little bit about asking for such a thing, but not too much. He was just as in awe of her art now as he’d been the day they met, and she knew it. Her portraits of his mother’s hands and his sister’s hands were already hanging on his wall, so this was a logical addition to his collection.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, looking over the nearly-finished picture. “I’m loving it, but...I think it’s missing something.” 

Marinette frowned, turning the picture back towards herself. “What do you mean?” she asked, just as Luka shifted his grip on her hand. She looked back at their hands, opening her mouth to protest, but instead her mouth just dropped open as Luka slid a small sparkling ring onto her finger. 

“There,” he grinned, looking up at her face as Marinette did a credible imitation of a fish. “That’s better.” His eyes softened as he looked at her. “Marinette, will you—”

He never got a chance to finish as she tackled him awkwardly back onto the steps, her sketchbook falling from her lap and bouncing down to land in nearly the same place it had almost exactly a year ago. 


	8. He Didn't Have Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm all set to work on WIPs all of November. WIPvember! Yeah! We're gonna really make some progress on things this month!
> 
> Then something reminded me about this song, and I went and listened to it, and suddenly there was a new fic. Dangit!!
> 
> Oh well...I hope you enjoy. Inspired by [She Didn't Have Time by Terri Clark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_mwbCw4utI).

“Hey,” Luka grinned as he got out of his car. “Need any help?”

“Nope,” she said shortly, plopping her bag in the trunk of her own car. “Just one more bag by the door.”

“Let me just go put my stuff down,” he told her, pausing to kiss her cheek, but she bent over to adjust something in the trunk, and he missed. “I’ll grab it for you and come see you off.” 

Luka went inside and put his work bag and guitar down in their small bedroom, hurrying quickly back out so that he could say goodbye. He thought he’d made it home early enough, but obviously she was anxious to get going. He couldn’t blame her, really, it was a good opportunity for her and she must be excited to go, even though it meant leaving them for a while. 

Luka paused as he passed through the kitchen, and frowned. He picked up the ring laying on the kitchen table, the tiny little diamond he’d struggled to buy for her, because even though nothing happened the way they intended, she deserved at least that much. Then he ran out the front door. 

The bag on the doorstep was gone, and she was about to get in the car. She ignored him when he called her name, ignored him right up until she opened the car door and he slammed his hand into it, slamming it shut again. “What the hell does this mean?” he demanded, holding up the ring. “You were going to leave and not come back, just like that?”

She looked at him impassively, a dead look in her eyes that froze his gut worse than anything else. He raised a hand to cup her cheek, but she pushed it away. “Luka, you know none of this was what I wanted.” 

“I know,” Luka sighed. “But...we’re making it work. It’s hard but it’s worth it. At least I think so.”

“Well, I don’t,” she muttered, and he stared at her. “I’m sick of debating which gigs I’m allowed to take, and where I’m allowed to go and for how long. I’m tired of being here. I want to chase my dreams the way they were supposed to be.”

“You mean, without us,” Luka bit out, anger growing. 

She shrugged, looking somewhere over his left shoulder instead of meeting his eyes. 

“You’re better off without me. I’m not ready to get married. I never wanted a baby. I shouldn’t have let you talk me into keeping it.” 

“Talk you into—I thought we  _ agreed _ —”

“Well, we didn’t,” she broke in, frustration showing in her voice and her face. “You were just so excited, and I loved you, so I thought maybe it would be okay, but it’s not okay, Luka. I’m just—I’m not what you need me to be. I’m not a mother. I never wanted to be.” She took a shaky breath. “And I don’t love you anymore. I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me.” 

Luka swallowed, and stepped back. 

“Okay then. If that’s really how you feel, then. Just go.” 

Face stone, he watched her get in the car. He stood there in the driveway with her ring in his fist, until she was out of sight. 

She never looked back.

Slowly he turned around and went back into the tiny, cramped rental house. He dropped the ring back on the table as he passed.

Luka opened the door that he had meticulously oiled and sanded until it no longer creaked and no longer stuck, peaked in at the little figure curled up in the crib, and sighed. “Guess it’s just you and me now, baby girl.” He started to step back and close the door, but reversed his step instead, coming into the tiny room and closing the door behind him. He sat down in the rocking chair they’d picked up off a curb somewhere, and put his chin on his fist, and watched his little girl sleep as he tried to come up with some kind of a plan for the coming days. He didn’t have time to think about where it had all gone wrong, he told himself. He had a lot to figure out.

* * *

Luka was having  _ one of those days _ . One of those days that where you knew from the get go that it was going to suck. The kind of day that, in the last three years and change as a single parent, he’d learned you just had to endure until it was over. Felicity, normally a cheerful, easygoing child, had been in one of those inexplicable sulks that children occasionally get that morning, and had protested everything, from Luka’s choice of breakfast offerings to the school clothes she herself had picked out the day before, and Luka, holding on to his temper by his teeth, had barely managed to get her ready and out of the door in time to rush her into her kindergarten classroom mere seconds before the bell. The teacher had shot him a sympathetic look as she took charge of his little chaos demon and Luka slumped his way back to the car for work, only to get a text that they weren’t going to need him today  _ just  _ as he pulled into the parking lot.

It had only gone downhill from there, so why  _ shouldn’t _ his sister decide to call and tell him all the ways he was living his life wrong while he was busy pushing a rattling cart full of groceries across a busy parking lot. He was forced to stop short as someone popped out from between two cars in front of him, and then swerve to avoid a chunk of missing pavement, and he almost missed what Juleka was fussing about. “Sorry, say that again?”

“Are you sure?” Juleka repeated. “Because I could pick her up from school and take her over to t-ball if you just want to get some time to yourself for a little bit.” 

“No, Jules, I got it,” he sighed, and he could practically hear Juleka frown.

“Luka, you’re running yourself ragged,” she scolded. “Speaking of which, why aren’t you at work?”

“They didn’t need me today,” Luka sighed.

Juleka paused. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Not if it’s just today,” Luka replied as evenly as he could. “I’ve put in a good amount of hours this month, we’re fine.” 

“Okay. You know I’m here if you need—”

“Yeah, but I don’t,” Luka replied shortly.

“Anyway,” Juleka said, “I’m just saying, you don’t have to do everything yourself. You know Rose and I don’t mind helping out. I can pick her up today. You sound exhausted, Luka. You’re not a bad dad if you let someone else help out once in a while.”

“I know that,” Luka protested. “I just like to be there.”

“It’s  _ little league t-ball _ , Luka, not the Olympics. You don’t have to be there for every single practice. You need a break every once in a while. Go sit in a park and play your guitar. I know you haven’t been to a gig in weeks but—”

“I left the band.” 

Juleka paused. “What?” 

“I just—I couldn’t keep bringing them down, Jules. I’m skipping out of rehearsals all the time, it’s not fair to them. I really appreciate you getting me the in, I do, but I just—it’s just not a good time yet.”

“Luka,” Juleka said flatly, and he winced and braced himself for the lecture, biting his lip hard. “I got you into that band so that you would get out of the house every once in a while. Look, I know you love Felicity, and I know you feel guilty for what happened even though it wasn’t your fault and blah blah blah but. This isn’t healthy. You can’t make Felicity your whole life.”

“Are you finished?” Luka said harshly, cramming the phone between his neck and his shoulder as he fished out his car keys from his back pocket. 

“I’m barely getting started,” Juleka said hotly, and Luka sighed.

“Well, save it. I don’t have time for going out, I don’t have time to give a band the attention it deserves, and I don’t have time for this conversation again when—” He stopped short, the cart rattling at the abrupt jerk. 

“What happened?” Juleka asked, and Luka sighed again.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Never mind. You know what, yeah, go ahead and pick Liss up for me and take her to t-ball practice, please. I gotta go. I’ll text you if I’m not going to be there in time to meet you at practice.”

Luka hung up the phone, and cursed, resisting the urge to throw it at something. He crouched down by the rear tire, like looking at it closer would reveal that it wasn’t actually flat. Because losing his mind would honestly be better than this. 

“No,” Luka muttered, leaning his forehead against the car. “No, no, no, I do  _ not _ need this right now.” 

It was just...too much. Just one reminder too many of how his life had gone completely off the rails. 

He took a deep breath, telling himself he was a grown man and couldn’t be crying in a parking lot while Felicity’s ice cream melted, and he needed to just suck it up, get up, and fix the tire, and he supposed it was a good thing Juleka had called to nag him because he clearly wasn’t going to be able to pick Felicity up on time because of this stupid, fucking tire, and he didn’t have  _ time _ — 

“Excuse me?” 

Luka jerked back and looked up. There was a petite woman with black hair and sunglasses with metallic pink rims standing next to him, leaning down slightly. 

“Can I give you a hand?” she asked, and Luka’s mouth dropped open a little and he blanked completely. That was...not the question he’d been expecting. He felt like he was choking on the reflexive  _ oh no, I’m fine _ he’d been readying. The lady glanced at the tire and then back at him, tilting her head slightly. “You’ll be done faster with an extra set of hands. Um, we should probably move your groceries out of the sun first though...maybe in the shade under that tree?” 

When he didn’t respond, just stared at her, her expression softened a little, and she crouched down next to him, pulling off her sunglasses as she placed a hand on his arm. Luka sucked in a breath as she blinked pretty blue eyes at him, her expression gentle and kind. “I don’t mean to pry,” she said softly. “I know a little bit about what it’s like to be so overwhelmed that every little thing feels like the end of the world. But you don’t have to do everything yourself. Let’s just take it one step at a time, okay? Let’s put your groceries in the shade, and then we’ll see about getting this tire fixed.” 

“But—” Luka blinked and looked down at her clothes. She was wearing a business suit with a skirt and heels, and he suddenly felt self-conscious of his own ripped and faded clothes. He’d stopped caring what he looked like ages ago, not that he’d ever been particularly fashion-conscious, but he felt cheap and ragged next to this perfectly put together, sharp businesswoman. 

Her laugh made him smile in spite of himself, though. “Don’t worry about that. I have some sneakers in my car, that’ll be good enough, and I’m done for the day, so I don’t mind getting a little dirty.” She stood up and walked away, and Luka stared dumbfounded after her, until he realized he was staring right at her very nice legs and turned his face away with a flush. God, what was wrong with him? He stood up and mechanically began moving his groceries from the cart into a pile in the shade of the tree as she’d suggested. 

His benefactor returned after only a moment. She’d taken off her suit jacket and changed her heels for sneakers, and smiled brightly at him as she lifted two bags out of the cart. “My name is Marinette,” she told him, and Luka had to clear his throat and rip his gaze away from her toned arms to answer her.

“Luka,” he said. “Thank you, Marinette. For stopping. I guess I was kind of having a moment there. You really don’t have to stay though if you have somewhere to be. I can handle this myself.” 

She gave him that same kind smile. “I don’t. Nowhere that can’t wait, anyway. Like I said, I know what it’s like, and I wouldn’t be here now if someone hadn’t stepped in when I needed it.” She set the last of his bags in the grass and straightened, hands on her hips. “Now, shall we see what we can do with that tire? Do you have a spare?”

Luka did, and together they got it out and rolled it into place. Marinette sat right down on the pavement despite his protests, holding out her hand for the jack, and Luka could only hand it over and crouch down beside her. 

“Just one of those days, huh?” Marinette gave him a sympathetic look, and Luka chuckled, rubbing his neck. 

“Yeah, you could say that. Though sometimes it seems like every day is one of those days.” 

She smiled at him before turning her attention to the tire. “I know how that is.” 

They chatted as they worked—mostly as Marinette worked, because she seemed determined not to let him do anything. He did reach over to help her when one of the lugnuts didn’t want to budge, and he thought he saw a flicker of admiration in her glance when she watched him. Probably wishful thinking, but it gave him a little glow. It had been a while since he noticed anyone looking at him like that. 

When his car was fixed, the equipment stowed, and what groceries could be salvaged stored inside (Felicity’s ice cream was a loss; Luka would have to make it up to her later), Luka checked the time. If he hurried, he could still make it to part of Liss’s practice, but...Juleka was there, so he had time if he wanted it...

Luka glanced at the little coffee shop next to the grocery store, and then at Marinette. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee? It seems like the least I can do.” 

Marinette looked at the time and seemed to consider for a moment, and then glanced up at him and smiled. “Make it tea and that sounds lovely.”

“Whatever the lady wants,” Luka agreed, gesturing her ahead of him. She gave him a slightly startled look, and then a pleased smile. Luka’s grin widened a little bit as he trailed behind her. She walked with a no-nonsense march, like she was still in heels. He bet she was something, clacking into a conference room like she owned the place. Hell, maybe she  _ did  _ own the place. She hadn’t really told him much about herself. Luka suspected she’d been sticking to light subjects that she thought would cheer him up, and it had worked, but now he was very curious. 

They separated for a moment into their respective restrooms to clean the dirt and grease off their hands, and then met back up at the counter. Marinette ordered tea and Luka coffee, and they found a table near a window. 

“I feel like I owe you a lot more than coffee,” Luka admitted as they sat down.

Marinette shook her head. “You’d have been fine without me.” 

“As far as the tire goes, yeah,” Luka admitted. “But...you were right. I really did need somebody right then, and...you really brightened up my day. So thank you for that, Marinette.” 

Marinette blushed, a pretty pink dusting along the apples of her cheeks, and Luka’s heart stuttered. She was really beautiful, Luka thought wistfully as she smiled up at him. Obviously kind and thoughtful and strong too...He hadn’t been out with anybody in a long time, but maybe...maybe Juleka had a point...

“So,” Marinette said, settling her tea bag in the cup. “Do you have kids?”

Reality kicked Luka in the gut and he swallowed. “Yeah, she’s five,” he managed, hoping his smile didn’t look too fake. What had he been thinking? A classy, driven business lady like Marinette wasn’t going to have any interest in someone like him, who could barely make ends meet and came with...complications. 

“I saw the carseat,” she smiled, and then colored a little, looking down. “Mine’s um...mine’s three. Maybe you can give me some tips. I’m not sure either of us is actually going to make it to five.” Her eyes flicked up to his and then away shyly. “He’s definitely running me ragged.”

“Really?” he echoed, a smile growing slowly on his face. “You don’t look it.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose with a sheepish grin. “He’s been with my parents all week while I’m trying to close a deal at work. Normally I do a lot of my work from home, but I’ve been meeting some people I’m hoping to convince to invest in my business and it was kind of important. It’s been stressful and I miss him, but I haven’t slept this much in years.” She giggled, looking slightly guilty. 

Luka grinned. “Sleep, man, I thought that was just a legend, not something that really happened.” They both laughed, probably a little louder than the joke really warranted. “Well, maybe we could—maybe we could have a play date sometime?” he suggested, face heating. God, he was so bad at this.  _ Play date _ , God help him. 

Marinette was still smiling, though, maybe even a little more than before. “That sounds like it could be really fun,” she said, toying with the tag of her teabag. 

Luka leaned his elbows on the table and grinned at her. “So...know any good playgrounds? Liss and I are always looking for a good adventure.”

She looked down into her tea, still smiling, and Luka felt a sudden flutter of panic in his stomach and he wondered what he was doing, if he really wanted to put himself through this again. 

Marinette looked up and her eyes met his, sparkling and so, so blue. “I maybe know a few,” she said, and as he stared into those eyes, Luka knew it was too late. 

He left the coffee shop with Marinette’s number in his phone and a date for Saturday. A play date, yeah, but...it was a start.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Four Times Luka Couffaine Riled Up Marinette Dupain-Cheng (And The One Time She Returned The Favor)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23422165) by [Snugglebuttkitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snugglebuttkitten/pseuds/Snugglebuttkitten)




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